


We Were The Better Kind

by yourpricelessadvice



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Teacher Louis, Tomlinshaw - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 65,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourpricelessadvice/pseuds/yourpricelessadvice
Summary: Louis has everything how he wants it. His job is good, his family is well and he loves sharing a house with his boys: Niall destroys and Liam tidies, Zayn keeps them fed and Harry - well, he jams the plug hole with his long hair and brings his sarcastic, idiotic non-rent paying boss/friend Nick around far too much. But on his own, without an audience to play to, maybe Nick’s not so bad?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note:  
> *An unnamed, unspecified illness and recovery period is referenced throughout, involving Jay. Please be assured there is no character death in this story.*
> 
> Title comes from A Means To An End by Joy Division.

 

 

It’s September the third and Louis is mourning the loss of six weeks off work. He opens a bleary eye at quarter past nine and his heart immediately sinks when he realises today is the last day of the summer break. What a thing to wake up to.

The summer has been a good one but he’s looking forward to getting back to a bit of normalcy in the house. Some may call living with your four best mates a recipe for disaster but Louis calls it the easiest and best decision he’s ever made.

Niall is unorganised and uninterested in his share of the chores but he’s so kind you almost forget he’s so annoying.

Liam makes up for everything that Niall lacks from a cleaning and domesticity point of view.

Zayn makes the most delicious meals for them, but he dropped a whole container of garam masala on the floor in May and there is still curry powder between the gaps in the wooden floor that have proved impossible to reach. They’ve had a very... _fragrant_ summer.

Harry’s long hair clogs the plughole in the bath and he’s always bringing his non-rent paying friend over for days on end.

But there isn't a single set of housemates he can think of that he’d rather have. Nope, there isn't one second when he wishes he was anywhere else.

“Jesus, I wish I was _anywhere_ but here!”

Oh dear, sounds like Zayn doesn't quite share his enthusiasm at this moment.

“Nialler, for fuck’s sake!” Zayn continues to shout downstairs. Louis raises an eyebrow and chuckles to himself. “You’ve brought the plates all the way from the living room to the kitchen, why then d’you leave them _next_ to the sink? Just put them _in_ the sink, you prick!”

He can hear Niall’s voice moving from wherever he was towards the kitchen; he’s muttering that he needs to get to work and he’ll do it later, but Louis can hear the taps running and knows that Zayn is already doing it himself.

“Work!” Zayn scoffs. “Mate, you’re a volunteer!”

The front door opens and closes with a sharp bang, and then quietness descends again. Louis will give it ten minutes before going downstairs to bother Zayn. He pulls himself to sitting and grabs his phone from the charger, flicking the plug off at the wall. Force of precautionary habit.

He sees two messages from Harry.

_‘lsot my key let mein please?’_

_‘dont worry im in xxxxxxxxxx’_

Louis looks at the time stamps, 02:34 and 02:35. He was asleep then, of course. He’s not sure if Harry found his key or one of the other poor sods let him in, but then maybe that’s why Zayn is in such a foul mood, because he was woken up.

He sticks his legs stiffly into joggers and trudges downstairs, foregoing his contacts for his glasses. He finds Zayn in the kitchen just putting the last of the plates onto the rack to drip dry. Zayn continues to berate Niall, following Louis around the crowded space as he tries to make himself a bowl of honey Cheerios.

“Zayn! You’re constantly one step behind me, stop it!”

Zayn moves out of his way then, thankfully, and they both sit down at the small round table in the corner of their pokey kitchen. There is another table in the front room, bigger with room for all of them, but Louis prefers the kitchen. He’s always felt the kitchen to be the heart of the home, probably because of his mum. She’d always hold court in the kitchen, call family meetings in the kitchen, the dining table was within the kitchen back at home, a massive grand old thing to seat all seven (and eventually six when Mark left) of them.

The unmistakable arrival of Harry Styles in the kitchen shakes Louis from his memories. He looks up from his cereal to see the man himself come staggering into the kitchen in just a wooden beaded necklace and a pair of salmon pink boxer shorts.

Zayn wolf whistles and Louis just rolls his eyes, returning his focus to his next mouthful of breakfast.

“Morning chaps!” A second voice sounds, and then Nick Grimshaw is in the kitchen too, thankfully more dressed than Harry.

Nick is Harry’s friend, the sixth unofficial member of the household. He’s here a lot, even though he doesn’t contribute much beyond the occasional takeaway or crate of beers. He’s actually Harry’s boss, which sounds creepier than it is. Nick’s older than them definitely, maybe about thirty something, Louis isn’t sure, and he’s nice enough but Louis feels uneasy around him. He doesn’t like to think _too_ much about it.

“Hi Louis,” Nick greets him personally, and suddenly Louis doesn’t fancy his cereal anymore.

Nick likes to wind everyone up, is very happy-go-lucky and ‘funny’ but Louis feels like he personally targets him sometimes. He’s not the bravest, most confident and outgoing guy in the world, Louis, and he and Nick just clash. Plus, he makes Harry do stupid things like stay out all night and then go into work still a bit drunk. Some bloody boss. Oh, and there was that one time they smashed the kitchen window to get in because, story of Harry’s life, they were locked out.

“Hiya,” He mumbles as to not be impolite. He takes another mouthful of unappetising cereal so he doesn’t have to speak again. For some reason he feels conscious of the fact that he’s still wearing the t-shirt he went to bed in.

“No school today?” Nick asks, and Louis hears it as a dig, an attempt to belittle him, but then Nick corrects himself and Louis doesn’t know what to think. “I mean, not teaching today? First day of term tomorrow, right?”

The fact that Nick remembers little bits of trivia about Louis’ life and asks about them on a semi-continuous basis is neither here nor there.

Louis hums in agreement and pushes the bowl away with just the sugary milk left at the bottom. He hadn’t realised he’d finished the bowl until he’d gone to have another mouthful and just got liquid.

“Then it’s only twenty nine working days until another week off!” Nick goads, smiling devilishly. Harry shoves Nick’s arm in a feeble attempt to get him to shut up.

Louis finds himself constantly defending the profession of teaching, the seemingly frequent weeks off for the holidays and particularly the six weeks in the summer that _is_ an _obvious_ perk but isn’t quite as clear cut as it sounds. The first and last weeks are generally filled with paperwork and lesson planning.

“Of course,” Nick says with an exaggerated nod.

“Grim, stop windin’ him up.” Harry finally intervenes through a mouthful of Marmite on toast. He drags Nick out of the kitchen and Nick waves as he’s dragged away.

Zayn disappears promptly too, going to get ready to head into town ‘for some supplies’. Louis scoffs and wonders if Zayn realises how pretentious he sounds. With Niall, Liam and Zayn gone already, Harry and Nick both head out in time for their ten o'clock shift to start.

His last day off is quiet but another reminder of how things are back to normal now after a summer of holidays here and there, weekends away, random nights in other cities and barbecues in their overgrown (‘characterful’, according to Niall) back garden.

He watches the last of the crap daytime telly and has cheesy beans on toast for his lunch, he texts his biggest little sister Lottie to find out if she is going to their mum’s on Sunday for a roast, and makes sure his bag is packed for tomorrow.

Liam arrives home first, followed by Zayn and then Niall shows his face for an hour before disappearing off to his ‘proper’ job; barman at The Crown. Harry comes back from work, alone this time, just before nine, having worked a 10-8.

Louis stays up with him and Zayn watching telly until about eleven then reluctantly drags himself to his room. He lays there for probably a hundred hours trying to fall asleep, listening to the socialising still going on around him, hearing Niall come in at half past one. By the time he wakes up with his phone alarm at half past six, he’s guessing he got about four and a half hours sleep.

He dresses in navy chinos and a biscuit coloured polo under a blue jumper and settles his nervous tummy with a cuppa and plain buttered toast. No one else is up but he does hear Liam stagger to the shower just before it’s time for him to leave.

He’s on the bus by half past seven, arriving at work just before 8am. The kids start arriving from 8:20 and the school day officially begins at 8:35.

His kids are the Reception class, aged 4-5. He loves this age; they’re so full of questions and opinions. The kids that departed them at the end of last term were some of the brightest characters Louis had met in his two and a half years of teaching.

The kids joining them have been to several stay and play sessions and he’d been studying a list of names all summer, trying to memorise them so that when it came to putting names to faces it wasn’t such an ordeal. By quarter past ten he’s got at least eight of them down.

The classroom teacher Miss Harris is a nice lady, probably a few years older than himself and her son Noah is in year two. She keeps their kids under control nicely with a soft, warm manner that reminds Louis a little bit of his mum at times. He’s sure Miss Harris wouldn’t take kindly to that snippet of information, though.

They spend the morning making name tags for their trays and their coat pegs. It’s relatively stress free, and at break time he puts on his standard school-issued rain mac and heads outside on playground duty.

“Mr Tom-inson!” He hears a familiar voice squealing his name. He turns around to see Sadie Glover, a little girl from his class last year, barrelling towards him looking pleased as punch. “Hiya Mr Tom-inson!”

“Hello Sadie, how’s year one?”

“Boring!” She exclaims, cackling with laughter before running off with Elise Mack and Charley Webster.

Louis chuckles to himself before wandering over to supervise three year two boys that are climbing precariously on the climbing frame. Sadie was definitely one of his favourites, even though of course they’re not supposed to have favourites.

During the hour between break time and lunchtime it’s time for the book corner, literally crowding all twenty children into the carpeted area of the classroom and reading to them. It’s something nice and calming for the little darlings before they go into the canteen for lunch and then back out to the classroom to blow off a bit more steam.

Miss Harris reads Kitchen Disco, a rhyming story about dancing fruit, one that Louis has heard a million times before but the children love it and a few of them even shout out missing words when prompted to. Louis’ job is to make sure everyone is sitting nicely and coaxing the odd one back into sitting down, sitting still, keeping talking to a minimum.

He disappears to the staff room during lunch, glad for a bit of respite. He pulls out his phone and sees that Lottie has finally replied to his message from yesterday. He shrugs, pocketing the device again. She made him wait for a reply so he is going to do the same.

He’s barely peeled back the plastic on his crap couscous salad when he hears Perrie. He looks up to see her ducking into the staff room, huge handbag first and headful of blonde curls second.

“Hiya love!” Perrie beams, sitting down opposite. She produces a can of Diet Coke from her huge bag of tricks and cracks it open with a hiss. “How’s it been?”

They’d seen each other a few times over the summer break, bumping into each other in Tesco Express and again more recently when they’d been out for Liam’s birthday at the end of August.

“Good, it’s good to be back.” Louis says, wondering if maybe his double use of the word ‘good’ was unconvincing. Perrie just smiles.

They chat for a while before the phone comes out and Perrie’s attention is diverted.

The afternoon is spent doing ‘getting to know you’ activities. He’s knackered when he gets home that night, the effort of going back to work after six weeks off much more difficult than he ever remembers it being. He takes two slices of Liam’s oven cooked pizza and then disappears for a shower and bed.

The rest of the week follows much the same, getting back into the swing of things at work, learning new faces and catching up with old ones.

He’s glad to be done for the weekend; an evening curled up under covers sounding very appealing right now. When he arrives home, Niall and Zayn are seemingly arranging a night out. Despite their very persuasive begging, Louis bins it off and stays home.

Quietness descends over the house by eight o’ clock and Louis can finally relax. He leaves his dirty saucepan and the empty packets on the side in the kitchen and takes his bowl of pasta through to the living room, a bottle of sauvignon blanc tucked under his arm.

He takes up residence on the sofa and flicks the telly on, taking in the state of disarray that the living room has been left in; shoes, Xbox controllers, cups, empty cans. He flicks through the channels before going to the recordings and finding a couple of Top Gear specials. He picks the Vietnam one and puts it on, making a mental note not to delete it from the viewings after; they’re Liam’s recordings after all.

He’s poured a glass of wine and is just about to take his first bite of pasta when he hears the front door open and close. His heart sinks and he rolls his eyes, wondering who it is, how many of them there are and why they’re back so soon.

He hears just one set of footsteps make their way up the hallway and the door swings open with a small whine of the hinge.

“Whatcha doin’ Tomlinson?”

Louis almost jumps out of his skin as he feels Nick Grimshaw’s palms slap his shoulders and the man himself slump down in the sofa next to him. Louis immediately grabs the remote control and feels a prickle of nerves shoot up his spine.

Of course it’s Nick, probably sent by Harry’s lazy arse to fetch something he’d forgotten. Nick has a key to their house, apparently. That’s news to Louis. Unless it’s Harry’s key, of course. But it doesn’t matter. Why is his brain scattering around like an electrocuted bee? Why is Nick sitting down next to him? Why does Nick always seem to catch him stuffing his face with food? Not that it matters, of course.

“Top Gear?” Nick asks, observing the screen for a moment. “Ahh, never gets old, does it?”

Louis just shakes his head, dumbfounded. “Harry’s not here, by the way.” He says, because why else would Nick be here? “I thought you’d be out with them.”

“Hmm,” He says, though he doesn’t sound at all fazed. “They’ve gone out, have they?” Nick asks, and Louis nods. “So why’re you sat here, Billy No Mates?”

“It’s the end of the first week back at school, my brain is frazzled. I’m in no state to be going out.”

Nick chuckles deeply. “I see,” He says, slowly. “Spending four days on the trot playing with five year olds _is_ quite tiring.”

“Shut up,” Louis mumbles, though the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile that he can’t help.

Nick laughs too, almost like he’s satisfied he made Louis smile, but that can’t be it. “So instead you’re sitting in and getting drunk by yourself? Sad.”

“Hey!” Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m not getting drunk, I only have one glass.”

“Cool, all the more for me then!” Nick says, reaching for the bottle. “Where are the glasses, love?”

Louis’ brain is swimming with information overload as he wanders blindly into the kitchen to get a glass for Nick. All the wine glasses are elsewhere so he grabs a pint glass.

“Sorry, s’all we’ve got clean,” He says as he hands to empty glass to Nick.

Louis sits back down and watches Nick pour the glass about a quarter of the way up and put the bottle back. Louis picks up his bowl of pasta again and picks idly at a swirl of fusilli.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Nick says, motioning to the bowl with his glass.

Louis nods and takes a bite, feeling suddenly so very conspicuous.

“No, but in all seriousness, is it good to be back?” Nick asks before the silence can become too awkward.

Louis is quite taken aback but manages to spit out a semi-decent answer. “Yeah, I love the kids, it’s a dream job.”

Nick smiles. “That’s nice. Just like me, eh? Working in HMV is my dream job.”

He’s being sarcastic obviously. A moment passes and they revert to watching the TV. It takes a while but Louis manages to relax eventually and start paying actual attention to what’s happening on the screen.

They both laugh at Jeremy Clarkson’s childish sulking caught in a rainstorm and the three Top Gear men making their way up Vietnam on spluttering, wheezing motorbikes. Louis doesn't understand what is happening at first when Nick touches his arm softly and reminds him that his food is going cold. Louis looks down at the bowl in his hand with surprise.

Nick rolls his eyes and heaves himself to his feet with a huff, taking the bowl from Louis and stomping to the kitchen to reheat it in the microwave. He doesn't say anything when he sits back down, pours a splash more wine into both of their glasses and goes back to watching Top Gear.

Nick goes home after the TV special finishes, leaving Louis alone with an empty bottle and a dirty dish. He looks around the room, still feeling the electric presence of Nick in the seat next to him, even after he’s gone. He shakes his head and tips his head back to hit the back of the sofa.

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” He asks the ceiling. It has no answers.

++

Louis sleeps in until half past twelve and then goes to Aldi with Zayn for the food shopping. Carrying the bags of shopping home is his cardio for the week.

On Sunday he goes to his mum’s for the aforementioned roast, having finally finalised plans with Lottie on Thursday. In and amongst the hubbub of a houseful of women, Louis manages to find peace. They get to talking about work, as always, and Jay asks if he’s given any more thought to moving into a more specialised area of teaching assistance, like special educational needs or child protection. He always is, but he wants to hold off for at least another couple of years until he’s got more experience under his belt. That’s his excuse anyway.

After dinner he pushes the beanbag up against the wall and cuddles up with one of his baby twin sisters, Phoebe, who is actually eleven but her and Daisy will always be the babies.

The six of them watch telly until Lottie announces she’s going home, and so Louis catches a lift with her.

“Don’t get mud on the seats,” Lottie warns as he sits down in the front passenger seat and reaches for his belt.

“Lottie, what the fuck? How could I possibly get mud on the seat? I’m not seven!”

“Don’t swear at me or you’ll walk home,” She says, punctuating it with an irritating, “Prick.”

Later on that evening he spreads himself out over the dinner table with his paperwork and laptop. Niall sits with him and Liam is quietly watching the telly, taking understated care not to disturb him.

“What’re you doing?” Niall asks.

“Writing up the kid’s reviews,” Louis says without looking up. “For their progress journals they'll take into year one with them.”

“But they’ve only done a week.”

“It’s updated throughout the year. We can’t look back in July and remember every detail; it has to be updated constantly throughout the school year.”

He hears Liam snort softly, presumably at Niall.

“Shit me, that sounds like a lotta work. It’s Sunday evenin’ Lou! Who can be arsed with that on a weekend?”

“Uh, me? It’s my job?”

“Sounds like a lotta arse ache to me,” Niall remarks, folding his arms across his body decidedly.

“That’s why Lou’s got a proper job an’ you haven't!” Liam joins in, disturbing the peace.

“Oi, fuck you!” Niall shouts.

“Who’s fucking who?” Zayn appears at that moment, shattering the peace. Bang goes any ideas Louis had of getting his work finished.

“Language please, there’s a lady in our midst!” Niall remarks, and Louis looks up to see what lady could possibly have dared to enter their lair.

It’s Zayn’s older sister Doniya.

“She’s just come to get mum’s mixing bowl back from us, she isn’t staying.” Zayn says forcefully, and Louis just gives her a quick polite wave before she’s shipped back out by Zayn. There’s a bit of clanging and banging in the kitchen and then they hear Doniya shouting bye from the hallway.

The four of them end up watching Die Hard with a Vengeance because it’s on ITV2. Niall teases Liam that he is Bruce Willis and Harry joins them ten minutes before the end, throwing himself across Louis and Liam in the sofa. He’s wearing an oversized Ramones t-shirt that Louis knows to be Nick’s.

Louis shakes away and unwanted scenarios in his head and plays absentmindedly with Harry’s hair, trying desperately to stay awake through the painful last few minutes of the film. When the end credits finally roll he looks down, unsurprised, to find Harry asleep on him.

++

The second week back at school is where Louis really hits his stride. The little people in his class are a real bunch of characters and he can already tell the ones that are really going to make this year interesting, whether that’s in a good way or a bad way.

He has a chance to go over the calendar on Tuesday lunchtime with Perrie and Gina, who teaches year four.

“Look at this! The woodlands trip is at the end of the month, it better not be bloody raining!” Louis wrinkles his nose in disdain as he reads through the upcoming events for the year.

“Oh, get over yourself!” Perrie chastises playfully. It’s all right for her; she doesn’t have to spend a brisk autumn day wandering around a muddy, boggy wood looking at leaves with uninterested four year olds. Although...

“Ha! Yours is in January. Even colder in January.” He gloats as he sees Perrie’s year ones are going for their trip in January.

“Oh my God, what?!” Perrie whines, looking up with wide eyes. “There _are_ no leaves left in the woods in January, what the hell!”

“C’mon, Pez, I doubt the children get _that_ much educational value from those trips. It’s more an exercise on how to safely walk down the street in groups without getting run over or kidnapped!” Gina laughs, and they both agree with her, laughing the same.

“Aw, the Halloween disco!” Perrie muses softly, smiling back down at her piece of paper. “You gonna sign up to help out, Lou?”

Louis hasn’t had the pleasure of chaperoning the Halloween disco yet, a title that gives the forty five minutes of decorative spiders and pumpkins accompanied by the Ghostbusters theme tune in the school hall much more grandeur than it really deserves.

“Maybe. See how I feel.”

There’s a visit from the police in November to talk to the children about road safety, the Christmas concert and a trip to a farm in March amongst other things. Louis can’t really think that far ahead at the moment; anything past Christmas seems too futuristic.

The rest of the day is tumultuous to say the least. Some of the children are settling in better than others but there is a little girl called Casey who seems to be having a particularly hard time, especially in the mornings after her mother has dropped her off, but largely her anxieties are an all-day thing.

At lunchtime she charges around the playground happily but when they get the children lined up in their class groups to bring them back into the classroom for the afternoon session she gets restless again. He manages to support her through number work that is done in two groups of ten, but when the class is asked to reconvene on the carpet for story time again she begins to get restless.

Louis can see Miss Harris’ attention is being diverted by Casey’s fidgeting and murmuring, so he steps in, tapping Casey on the shoulder and beckoning for her to come and sit down by him.

The disruption causes a few little faces to look up with questioning looks, but he calms them down quietly and they go back to listening to Miss Harris.

“Here you go,” He whispers to Casey, passing her the cuddle bear that they keep for such moments as these when emotions have run too high. “As long as you have cuddle bear you’re all right, remember?”

She looks up at him doubtfully, her still brand new uniform looking miles too big on her tiny frame. She reminds him a bit of the twins when they were little, so waif like and petite with wide eyes and long hair. He gives her a supportive shoulder rub and then looks back to Miss Harris, prompting her to do the same.

Ten minutes later he’s out of the classroom with Casey and with three others who had been slowly beginning to deteriorate as the session had gone on. The four little faces sit around the low level table with him taking it in turns to say something they have enjoyed about school today. Three of them say playtime and Casey says the pizza they had at lunchtime, but Louis perseveres.

“And one thing about today that you’ve liked that wasn’t at playtime or lunchtime?”

“I like paintin’!” One declares proudly, while Casey mumbles that the cuddle bear was her best part.

“That’s it, that’s some good work guys!” He encourages them all once they’ve all given a satisfactory answer. He then gets them to talk about what is making them unhappy about their day, and then finishes it off with something positive. Cheesy, but simple and effective.

The rest of the afternoon goes off without a hitch.

++

September pay day falls on the same day for three out of five of them and that Friday is one of many, many beers and Zayn’s homemade curry, bhaji’s and pakoras.

Normally someone has some sort of joke to make about Zayn’s batch cooking but while they’re all three sheets to the wind, having hot curry at their fingertips in just a few short minutes is the best thing ever.

Nick turned up at some point, as expected. The first sniff of free curry and beer and he’s there.

There is poppadom trodden into the carpet and Niall has spilt his beer, everyone is very drunk but Louis is having a good time. They’d started off with Sky Sports on the telly which had graduated to Xbox and now they’re rounding off the night with the music channels. VH1 is doing a countdown of the 50 biggest karaoke hits of the 2000’s and between Valerie, Single Ladies and Bad Romance, Louis is absolutely _crying_ with laughter.

Harry and Zayn steal the show, of course they do. X Factor wannabes since their school days, the two of them upstage the rest of them and their off key warbling with an amazing, and in Harry’s case humorous, rendition of I Kissed A Girl. Zayn murders an adlib high note during the crescendo chorus and Harry somehow manages to make shouting sound good; his HMV gig truly is a poor substitute for the stardom he was sure he was destined for at age sixteen.

Louis excuses himself for a wee and then staggers back into the kitchen, his socked feet sliding on the wooden floor as he goes. He grips the back of a chair as he takes another can from the crate and turns to head back.

Nick stops him going any further. He’s wearing a faded grey Nirvana t-shirt and tight jeans; Louis’ sure the only thing he ever sees Nick in apart from his work clothes are band tees and skinnies.

“You not havin’ a sing-song, superstar?” Nick asks, a permanent grin etched on his features, though the flow of alcohol through Louis’ blood makes him feel less susceptible to Nick’s teasing.

“Uh, nope. That’s not ‘appenin’,” He says with a tight smile.

“Why not?”

“I think we should just leave that to Zayn an’ Harry, don’t you?”

“Shame,” Nick laughs softly as he takes Louis’ beer right out of his hand and takes a sip. Louis doesn’t even realise what’s happening until Nick raises his hand and tilts the bottle. “Cheers for that.”

Louis can’t help the smile of disbelief and amusement that tickles him as he sighs loudly and helps himself to a replacement beer.

++

As per his earlier fears, the morning of the school trip to the nearby woodland is a misty, drizzly one. The weather hasn’t really reached that cold stage yet, but jackets are definitely required. They get through the morning session, the kids absolutely thrumming with jittery excitement by the time they’re lined up in the playground, five children to every one adult.

Louis can’t share their enthusiasm but he does a pretty good job of putting a brave face on for his kids. It’s not coming down wet from the sky but it is wet underfoot, making the task of looking for leaves and insects all the more enjoyable.

The children have wellies on their feet and tick sheets in their hands, attached to the most adorable mini clipboards Louis has ever seen. His studious side has always loved a nice bit of posh stationery.

The leaves are pretty straight forward, though differentiating between some is more difficult than others and the kids aren’t really complying with the rules. Looking down the list, Louis’ not sure that they’re going to be able to find dragonflies but he supposes that butterflies aren’t completely out of the realms of possibility.

The sun breaks through the tops of the shedding branches though it’s no warmer and largely just shadowy and cool. His phone vibrates against his thigh in his pocket and though he shouldn’t look at it during school hours he sneaks a quick peek, angling it just out of his pocket and lighting up the screen to see the message.

 **Unknown Number:** ‘ _Hiyaaa it's Harry, can you bring home milk, cheese, bread and some chocolate maybe. Thaaaanks love xxx’_

Louis’ not sure why Harry isn’t texting on his own phone, or who’s phone it is, but Louis’ powers of deduction tell him that there is only _one_ house member (unofficial or otherwise) that he doesn’t have the phone number of.

++

Between finishing his admin and going to the shops for Harry, Louis is late home. By the time he gets in, throws his stuff into his room and changes into shorts and a baggy Adidas jumper, everyone is sat around the dinner table with nearing-empty plates and bottles of beer.

“Nice one lads, cheers.” He mutters as he skulks past the table. “Couldn’t wait half an hour could ya, no?”

Niall is smirking at him when he comes back in with a plate of reheated lasagne and a beer tucked under his arm. “What?” Louis mutters, his mouth full of a wedge of garlic bread.

“Top half says cold, bottom half says hot.” Niall smirks, regarding Louis’ attire.

“And what a hot bottom it is!” Nick quips before taking a swig of his beer, milliseconds before Louis can open his mouth and tell Niall to fuck off.

Louis’ blood runs cold as he registers what Nick had said. For a horrible moment he thought Nick said ‘what a hot bottom _he_ is, and his first instinct is to look for Harry. Harry’s looking down at his plate shovelling his last forkful of food in though. Louis hates himself that his go-to reaction to any outsiders insinuation about his sexuality is one of panic. Harry knows; Harry has been there with him through it all, but apparently he doesn’t regard this moment as being anything but innocent because he doesn’t look up at all.

Maybe Louis is overreacting; it was just a close call. He’s so shook up by the momentary misunderstanding that he doesn’t stop to realise that, _technically,_ Nick just complimented his arse.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Contains: One use of the word ‘puffs’

 

 

Early October doesn’t look too different to September; except the mornings are a little bit cooler and the nights a little bit longer. Miss Harris is already prepping for parents evening and the admin work is through the roof in anticipation of the event at the end of the following month. He splits the children alphabetically into two groups of ten and dedicates two consecutive Friday evenings to getting the progress journals up to date ready for Miss Harris to show to the parents.

He deals with the onslaught of abuse from the boys; telling him off for being boring. He watches them as they come and go, and it’s not like this is a new thing. He’s been snowed under by paperwork on the regular since before he even got a permanent teaching job, it’s not new.

“Tommo, you better stop shaggin’ your paperwork for five minutes ‘cause we’re goin’ out to get completely drunk on payday, no excuses.”

Louis looks up from his page and smiles softly at his Irish friend. “I’m sure I can manage that, Nialler.”

++

His Reception kids have their after school disco from 3.15 to 4pm and it’s a modest affair, most of them completely and utterly exhausted by the end of it. From 5pm to 6.15 is the disco for the older kids, which Louis somehow found himself signed up for too, thanks to a certain Miss Edwards.

The Reception kids’ disco goes over without a hitch and in the hour between the two discos, Perrie paints grey splodges and red ‘scars’ onto his face and gives him devil horns and a black cape to wear. His costume has zero consistency but it sort of works.

For another hour he mills around the darkened school hall, dodging tiny little Maleficent’s and Jokers, listening to the latest teeny bopper chart music and picking up discarded ham sandwiches from the floor before they can be stepped on.

Ten minutes before the end, he orders a Chinese via the Just Eat app and then Perrie gives him a lift home, so all in all he can’t complain. They sit outside the house chatting for ten or fifteen minutes and he jumps out of the car, pecking Perrie on the cheek, just as the delightfully familiar Just Eat scooter pulls up on the opposite side of the road.

“Hiya bud, you headed to number fifty four?” He calls to the timid looking delivery driver. “Nice one, I’ll grab it off you here. Cheers, pal!”

It takes a special set of skills to be able to order takeaway that arrives at your home the same time you do. Thankfully that’s not the only place his skills lie, or he’d be pretty buggered.

It’s lovely and toasty warm inside the house as he pushes open the front door. He kicks his shoes off by the door and only when he catches sight of himself in the hallway mirror does he remember he still has his theatrical makeup and devil horns on…

No wonder the Just Eat guy had given him such a strange look.

He pulls the horns off his head and throws them on the side, taking his food straight to the kitchen to plate up. He can hear laughing and the telly from the front room; a crate of beers sit on the side as standard. He bypasses them for a Coke and slips it into his jacket pocket for transportation.

He nudges the door open with his shoulder and grunts out a greeting to them all as he enters. Niall and Liam get all up in arms shouting at him as he walks in front of the TV screen, blocking their view but he simply smirks to himself and takes his time sitting down at the dinner table with his plate.

Niall and Liam are sat forward, right on the edge of the sofa, Xbox controllers in their hands. Zayn is sat between them with his sketchpad on his knee, not even caring to look up and greet Louis. Harry and of course Nick are sat on the smaller sofa, the one nearest the table, Harry pushed right into the corner with his knees under his chin, and Nick sat looking at his phone which is resting on the arm of the sofa.

Harry waves with a soft smile as Louis sits down. Louis smiles back but then looks back down at his plate, stopping for a moment to realise and deal with the fact that he’s eighty percent sure he’s got Nick’s number now. He’s not sure what he’s going to do with that fact, he hasn’t made sense of it yet, but the feeling of being pleased to see the lanky bugger is not as misplaced as Louis would’ve expected it to be, which is enough in itself to send him stir crazy with confusion.

He’s barely cracked open his can when he sees Nick shifting in his periphery. He’s tucked one leg under his body and props himself up against the arm of the sofa to lean across slightly, into Louis’ line of vision.

“Hiya Louis,” Nick says. Louis’ heart soars and then sinks. He knows that if Nick is singling him out personally then a well-meaning but bloody irritating teasing is coming his way.

“Hey,” He greets Nick monosyllabically.

“You’re late?” Nick remarks, and if there is a day when Louis stops over-analysing everything Nick says to him today is not that day.

“Halloween disco,” He replies curtly, pointing out his makeup, though he’s sure it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“Oh!” Nick exclaims stupidly. “I thought you might’ve been ill, didn’t want to say anything!”

Louis just rolls his eyes; he thinks he’s _so_ funny, of course.

“Bit premature isn’t it?” Nick asks, looking at an imaginary wrist watch. “It’s only the… twentieth?”

Louis just shrugs. “It’s not like I organised the thing. Actual Halloween falls during half term so…”

“Ah!” Nick grins smugly. “I was gonna say, you _must_ be due a week off soon?”

“You’re really hilarious,” Louis shoots back. “Harry, control your friend please?”

Harry just chuckles, carefree and happy just like he always is, and goes back to looking at his phone. It’s actually a week and two days off, but Louis isn’t going to mention this to Nick now.

++

As a new week starts, Louis reminds himself that he just needs to get through Monday and Tuesday and then Wednesday is the last day of the first term. If he can do that, he can be rewarded with a week and two days off.

++

“It smells and it’s ugly, I’m not havin’ it! I don’t want it!”

“Now that’s not a very nice way to talk about Harry!” Nick chortles as he returns from the kitchen with a cup of tea for just himself.

It’s now Wednesday and after four pm so Louis is officially on October half term. A musky pine sideboard fresh out of the eighties sits in the middle of the living room and they’re all standing around it like a shrine.

“Wow, that’s _gorgeous,_ where’s it from?” Nick asks sarcastically as he spots the new addition to the furniture. Louis watches him smile devilishly at Zayn and wink before sitting down on the edge of the sofa next to Harry.

“Got it from work, y’just can’t say no to a bargain like this!” Niall explains, proud as punch and quite surprised to find that Zayn doesn’t match his enthusiasm.

“How much was it?” Zayn asks, not sounding particularly as if he cares.

“Tenner,” Niall answers. “That’s nothin’, right?”

“Niall, you _volunteer_ at the charity shop! Which means you don’t get paid! This cost a tenner, so you’re in negative funds now!”

Niall can’t seem to see Zayn’s viewpoint, and Louis must admit that by the time he’s heard the word ‘sideboard’ for the fifteenth time, neither can he. Niall gets his own way in the end and Liam and Zayn shift the ugly old thing into an empty space against the wall while Harry uselessly directs them and Nick sits and watches with lazy bemusement on his face.

“See!” Niall exclaims happily once it’s in situ. “It’s like it was meant to be!”

“Meant to be thrown out, yeah!” Zayn mutters, though he’s moving the silk orchid – silk being the only thing the five of them could ever keep alive – from the window sill to the new sideboard. Niall watches the whole thing with a broad grin. “Oh, shut it!”

Zayn defrosts some leftover tikka for tea and they eat on the sofa, filling up the coffee table with bottles of Corona and it’s a great night; the perfect poster children for students living on a budget. Even though they’re not students anymore, the point – and the budgeting - still stands.

Six bottles in and they turn the Xbox on, Harry bravely stepping up to the plate to take on Louis.  Harry’s West Ham team suffer a crushing 4-1 defeat to Louis’ United, unsurprisingly, and Harry is hoarse from shrieking at the screen.

“No one’ll ever beat Tommo on Fifa, it’s just fact!” Niall declares, pink cheeked with his beer in the air. “S’not even worth tr-”

“I’ll take ‘im on!” Nick pipes up, reaching dopily forward to take the controller from Harry. He slots his beer between his legs and slaps Louis’ on the back. “Prepare, to be, disappointed.” Nick says smugly as the pixelated match kicks off.

“When you said prepare t’be disappointed I thought you meant me not you, holy fuck!” Louis exclaims a few minutes later when his United team beats Nick a comfortable 2-0.

“Nah, I demand a rematch, I was distracted- Harry, _fuck off!_ ” Nick swats Harry away and nudges Louis. “C’mon, that was beginners luck, for you. C’mon, it’s my time to shine now. If you think you can handle the humiliation!”

Louis almost can’t handle how much he is loving making Nick laugh and smile so brightly and loudly. His heart lurches in his chest and his breath catches as he murmurs, “Let’s do it.”

Nick shifts wildly in his seat, thrumming with excitement as they play against each other, and completely forgetting the bottle wedged between his knees he leaps out of his seat in celebration of his first goal and his beer spills all over the rug.

“Fuckin’ hell Grim!” Harry exclaims, throwing his arms in the air as he lolls about on the sofa, one leg slung over Niall’s lap. No one makes any moves to clear it up, even Liam which surprises Louis, and they resume their paused game without concern.

“All right, c’mon Grimshaw, we’re back in the game! Focus!” Nick screams to himself as they carry on their game.

Nick’s pixel player tackles the ball from Louis’ player and seconds later Nick’s team scores another goal. The look of happiness on his face is truly something else; he’s almost delirious with glee and Harry is practically sitting on his shoulders shouting encouragements and praise.

Niall is kicking Louis repeatedly in the kidney and screaming at him, “What the shitting hell are you _doin’_ Tommo?! Focus! Stop lettin’ the ball go!”

“2-1 to me! Oh yes! How does that feel?” Nick gloats smugly as unidentifiable dance music plays from the pause screen.

“I have _no_ idea what happened,” Louis lies weakly, pretending to be astonished. He has _every_ idea what happened.

“Looks like you’ve met your match,” Nick says softly, knocking his knee into the side of Louis’ thigh during the interlude between matches. “Go again?”

Louis looks sideways at Nick, takes a second to document the bleary eyed, red faced grinning mess sat next to him. “Bring it on.”

++

No one further questions the mysterious decline in Louis’ Fifa skills that night, but seeing Nick and Harry dancing around the living room hand in hand celebrating Nick’s across the board wins is more than worth a few on-purpose losses.

The state of the living room the next morning is one of absolute carnage. Memories of Nick’s beer spilling flood back to him as he spots the large dark circle of pigmentation on the rug. The coffee table is crowded with bottles of beer and bottle tops are scattered everywhere.

The room is less than fragrant with six plates of curry sitting stacked up on the floor, of all places. He steps over the debris and pulls open the curtains, wincing at the sudden bright light.

A small _harrumph_ and stirring behind him alerts him to the fact he is not alone in the living room. He turns around to see Nick, formerly asleep, under a thin fleece blanket. He’s curled up in the fetal position, socked feet hanging out the bottom of the blanket and his ridiculously wilted curly quiff is sprawled out over the sofa cushion.

“Make it stop!” Nick mumbles dramatically, letting out a ragged breath and smushing his face into the sofa.

Louis smiles to himself and shakes his head. “Sorry. Didn’t know you were there.”

It’s surprising to find Nick on the sofa because whenever he’s here normally he holes up with Harry. The petty, smug side of Louis is pleased to see Nick here; probably in mild pain, definitely cold but importantly, alone.

“Did you know Drunk Harry snores even worse than Sober Harry?” Nick says with a grim expression as he pulls himself up to sitting. “Couldn’t stand it any longer. Came down ‘ere at about four ish. Your sofas are shit, by the way.”

Louis does his best not to stare as the blanket slips and reveals Nick’s bare legs; knobbly knees and shapely calves, an even distribution of dark hair and then his dusky pink boxer shorts.

“They’re not _my_ sofas,” Louis says with a smile. “Don’t blame me that you’re having trouble in paradise.” Louis tries, bracing himself for what might come next. It feels like it takes forever for Nick to answer.

“Pah, paradise? Para _site_ , more like!” He snorts with an expression that might seem like confusion, if Louis were to be reading too far into things. “'Ere, sit down or summat, please, you’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” Louis sits down obediently, a safe distance across from Nick. He can still see a sliver of pink underwear though.

Nick looks down at his phone, scrolling this way and that way, and Louis has to tear his eyes away. He looks at the dust settled on the TV screen that glints in the light. He tries to collate all of the things that have just happened, which on paper may not seem all that monumental but to Louis means everything.

“Sorry for makin’ a mess of your front room, by the way.” Nick says suddenly.

Louis looks round to see that Nick has put down his phone and is looking directly at him. The blanket covers one of his legs leaving the other exposed, and is pooled around his waist. The light fades on his phone.

“It’s all right,” Louis says over the roar of the blood around his veins. “Liam will tidy up.”

“Was a good night,” Nick states, and Louis nods in agreement.

“Funny thing though,” Nick says with a quizzical glint to his dark eyes. “I’m not even that good at Fifa?”

Louis grins as his cheeks fill with caught out embarrassment. “Hm, fancy that!”

Nick snorts softly and then a bleary eyed Harry stumbles into the front room and all that was between Louis and Nick stops abruptly.

++

It’s Friday, and Louis has had all day to get ready but is still in his pyjamas bottoms and a hoodie at quarter to eight and the boys are shouting at him to get ready.

Zayn is perfectly put together as always in a long line blue t-shirt, skinny jeans and a bomber jacket, Liam unintentionally matches him in blue too but it works, and Harry’s hair sits around his shoulders making him look like an angel. Any hopes Louis has of coming anywhere _near_ to his mates are minimal.

Fresh out of the shower at ten past eight he stands in front of his wardrobe in just his towel, trying to pick something. He’s narrowed down his choices of jeans; black skinny or dark blue skinny, but has far too many jumpers and shirts and t-shirts to choose from.

Fifteen minutes later and with a mountain of grey and black and white and denim and blue tops disguising his bed covers, he emerges in his roll sleeve brown (the label calls it ‘rust’) t-shirt, black skinnies, black denim shirt and knitted grey Adidas shoes.

He’s greeted upon his return to the living room with uproarious applause and hollering. Harry wolf whistles.

“Finally!” Liam quips.

“About fucking time!” Zayn thrusts a beer into his hand, his phone on loudspeaker in the other hand, on hold to the taxi company. “Hiya, can I order a taxi please?”

Louis giggles to himself as Zayn pulls an ‘oops’ face before moving himself into the hallway to complete the call. Louis looks around discreetly for Nick, curious and a bit disappointed not to be able to find him.

“No lover boy tonight?” He asks Harry, impressed by his own nonchalance.

Harry gives a watered down smile. “He’s gonna meet us there later, maybe.”

“You mean he has other friends?” Louis remarks in mock horror.

“Spookily enough, yeah.” Harry laughs. “I know, I was surprised too.”

Louis drinks one beer and has to leave the other one half-drank when the taxi arrives for them at nine. Niall’s shift finishes at ten and he’ll join them then, and Zayn and Harry make it their life mission to distract him and cause general peril while he is still on the clock.

Harry is busy Frisbee-ing beer mats at Liam when Nick arrives. Niall salutes to him across the room and Louis looks up from the rim of his beer glass to watch him walk in.

Nick’s feet slap the floor clumsily as he walks and he commands attention as he runs his hands through his tall hair and waves his stupid arms as he walks. He shucks off his coat and underneath he’s in a worn Joy Division t-shirt and a checked shirt, and, just for a change, skinny jeans and battered black trainers.

“Never fear, I have arrived!” He declares, throwing himself into a seat next to Harry. He’s clearly already a bit past tipsy.

He looks around the table at all the boys, waving raucously again to Niall across the room before his glazed over eyes slide onto Louis. His eyes focus after a beat and his smile grows. “Hiya!”

“Hi,” Louis says quietly, putting down his beer carefully for something to do with his hands and trying to tamp down his giddy smile.

Harry and Nick talk quietly amongst themselves for a while. Zayn talks across the room to Niall, and Liam is texting furiously. Maybe he’s got a new girlfriend on the horizon? Maybe Louis’ own life is so boring and tragic that he’s projecting his own desires onto his friends.

“Comin’ Lou?” He hears Zayn mumbles, and he looks up to see his friend looking back at him expectantly, unlit cigarette hanging between his lips.

Nodding blankly, Louis pushes himself up off his seat and steps out, just as Nick springs up like the bloody jack-in-the-box that he is. “I’m comin’, wait for me!”

Nick smokes roll up cigarettes and watching him roll one is oddly therapeutic. He sits right on the edge of the damp bench, his whole body hunched forward and one leg crossed over the other. Louis watches him slip a filter between his lips and spread a pinch of tobacco into the crease of the rolling paper. His long clumsy fingers seem too big for such an intricate task, but he rolls it down into a perfect tube shape and tucks one side of the paper over on itself.

Nick looks up as he lifts it to his lips to gum it down, and Louis looks away hastily. He knows he’s been too obvious.

“All right, mate?” Zayn’s speaks, just in time, and Louis is thankfully.

There isn’t much scope for talking to Nick with Zayn around, and nothing more than Louis’ creepy staring has occurred by the time they all head back inside. Zayn goes first and Nick jogs ahead, holding the door open at the top near the catch.

“After you,” He says, nodding his head with a small grin. Louis ducks inside under Nick’s arm and jogs to catch up with Zayn, grabbing hold of the back of his t-shirt and hissing “wait for me!”

The drinks have been replenished during their absence and Louis downs his gratefully, feeling a bit dizzy from the cigarette; it’s been a few months since he ‘quit’ and evidently he’s not doing well at keeping completely away from cigarettes.

Louis knows it’s just gone ten without even having to check his phone because Niall comes sauntering over not long after in his all black ensemble and dish cloth still hanging out the back pocket of his skinny jeans.

He reaches forward for the nearest beer and takes a swig.

“Oi!” Liam yelps, eyes wide with indignation.

Niall just places the empty glass down calmly and holds his hands up. “I’ve been on my feet pullin’ _other_ people’s pints since two o'clock this afternoon, I don’t give a fuck Payno!”

“Who’s round is it? I paid for the taxi, fuck off!” Zayn spits with a frown as Harry looks at him expectantly.

“Here, stop your arguing boys, I can’t handle the stress!” Nick wails melodramatically. He slaps two tenners down on the saturated surface.

“Tommo, get off your arse an’ get the beers in!” Niall instructs him, snatching up Nick’s money and waving them in Louis’ face. With an exaggerated groan Louis pushes himself up out of his seat and snatches the money from Niall.

“You’re all having shandies!” He mutters as he heads over to the bar. “Pricks.”

“Sorry?” A girl to his right pulls back her shoulders with mock-indignation and giggles with a hand in front of her face.

“Oh, shit not you love, I- my mates. Sorry.”

The girl looks over Louis’ shoulder towards the table where the other five are sitting, drawing attention with their raucous laughter, and one of them belches.

“Wasn't he just behind the bar before?”

“Uh, yeah. He works here. He’s off shift now, luckily for us.”

She giggles loudly, like he’s just cracked the funniest joke. She draws attention to them and he looks around nervously.

“Wow, so you like, know the bar man?” She asks, apparently impressed for some reason. He nods, puzzled. She moves closer, for why Louis doesn't know because it’s hardly crowded. “What’s your name, Mr Mysterious?”

He hears another peal of laughter from somewhere behind him. “Uh, Lou-Louis.”

“Lou-Louis, pleased to meet you.”

He smiles politely. “Just Louis.”

“Okay, Just Louis. I’m Kaya.”

“All right, love?” He smiles again with a nod, glad to see Niall’s replacement approaching.

“What can I get for you mate?”

“Oh, uh, she was here first.” He motions to the girl - Kaya - trying to be polite.

“No no, it’s okay!” Kaya waves her hands and giggles, seeking attention.

“Okay, well uh, six pints of Fosters please?”

The barman nods as he taps the order into his till computer. “And for the lady?”

“Oh no-”

“Dry white wine and lemonade please!” Kaya jumps in, louder and more confident than his own ridiculous stammering. “Thanks!”

The bar man is off grabbing a glass and squirting draught Schweppes lemonade into the glass before Louis can stop him. _What the fuck is happening?_

“Fancy breakin’ off from your mates?” She asks him brazenly, staring back at him with her eyes wide and expectant.

“Oh, uh no I can’t. We’re all sharing a taxi.” He explains, still calm, just a little bit uncomfortable with her attention.

“Where are you going after this?” She asks.

“Uh, nowhere probably, just home. You?”

She rolls her eyes at him, giving a little huff as she smiles. What the hell. “I don’t have plans either.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” He commiserates weakly.

“Are you playin’ hard to get or are you just not interested?” She asks, accepting the glass of wine that is placed down in front of her.

It hits him like a fucking tonne of bricks, when he realises what is happening here. One of the things that goes part and parcel with not being one hundred percent confident in public is the inability to tell girls straight that you’re not… well, straight.

“Oh uh, I-” He cuts himself off with the realisation that his phone is vibrating and illuminating in his hand.

Kaya looks down at the ringing phone expectantly; waiting for Louis to answer it. He peers at the screen, recognising Nick’s still unsaved number flashing up on the screen. The fact that he recognises it immediately is neither here nor there.

His fingerprint is clammy and leaves a trail of condensation across the glass as he swipes across the answer.

“H-hello?” He stutters into the phone, Kaya giving him an incredulous look of distaste.

“It’s Nick, look, just go along with this okay? Say: ‘hi babe, yeah I’m fine. See you in a minute.’ Say it, Louis.”

“H-hi babe,” He stammers, sensing Kaya visibly retract in his periphery.

“‘See you in a minute’,” Nick repeats, word perfect. Louis can hear his so called friends laughing their heads off, both in real life and down the phone. He refuses to look over as his cheeks burn.

“See you in a minute,” Louis repeats robotically, barely aware of Kaya by this point.

“Say ‘love you’.” Nick instructs down the line, voice dripping with mirth and Louis feels sick and about two inches tall.

His throat is thick as he murmurs an almost incoherent ‘love you’ down the phone to Nick. Louis looks up as Kaya scoffs loudly and whisks her wine away, not looking back. Louis is left with his phone in his hand and the bar man staring expectantly at him, wanting paying for the six beers.

He pockets his phone and tries to tamp down the embarrassed pink hue of his cheeks as he blindly pays. _What had just happened?_ He can’t lift his gaze; he can’t face the looks and the laughs. He knows the tremble in his hands won’t allow him to carry the tray of heavy glasses, so he picks up two and leaves the rest at the bar. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head, barrelling past the embarrassment and anger and putting on his game face. He carefully leans over Harry’s shoulder and puts down his beer and then takes his seat, looking resolutely down at his drink.

“Oi! Where are ours?!” Zayn roars in indignation.

Louis lifts his glass to his lips and looks up, towards the bar where he’d left the other four beers. “At the bar.” He simply says, a lot more confidently than he feels. “You dickhead _enablers_ can get them yourselves.”

Zayn and Liam spin around in their seats to look at the bar and Zayn huffs in irritation. “For fuck’s sake!”

Louis doesn't even get any pleasure from the minor inconvenience of Zayn and Liam having to bring the drinks over themselves. He doesn't look at Nick, won’t let himself. He can feel embarrassment masked by irritation and clouded by confusion bubbling under the surface that takes a good half hour or so to fully dissipate.

Harry’s hand on his leg under the table distracts him from his thoughts. He looks up at his friend who is peering in at him looking concerned.

“You okay?” Harry mouths. Louis just nods, putting on a brave but watered down smile. “You sure?” Harry whispers again, and again, Louis nods. Harry looks at him with narrow eyes like he's not convinced, but ultimately he lets it go.

When the boys return with their beers, Louis puts on a brave face and lets them all laugh at him, he keeps his head held high, his gaze lifted and his mind _off_ a noticeably subdued Nick.

“You didn't see your face though!” Zayn chortles. “Honestly, it was like watchin’ a car crash, I couldn’t fuckin’ look away!”

“Oh, uh ah, yeah, I uh-” Niall joins in, his hands over-exaggeratedly shaking and stammering in reproduction of Louis’ obvious panic. “Grim, that was fucking class, mate, thank God you rescued him when you did, I think she was gettin’ ready to pounce!”

Louis’ eyes immediately flicker over to Nick at the mention of his name. Nick is holding onto his beer glass like a vice, like he’s afraid gravity is going to fail him. Louis wouldn’t exactly call what Nick did rescuing him.

“I’m a twat,” Nick says, which definitely isn't incorrect. Niall and Zayn laugh out loud, attention seeking and brash, and Liam chuckles but Nick looks mortified and Harry is chewing on the corner of his index finger.

“Did you _buy_ her a _drink?_ ” Zayn carries on going, oblivious obviously.

Liam laughs again, looking as if he is trying to solve an algorithm. “Honestly, Tommo, how d’you get yourself into these situations?”

“Leave him alone now, yeah lads? It weren’t even that funny the first time.” Harry says weakly, swatting his hand in the air dismissively. They share a brief look and Louis hopes that his eyes convey the thank you that he is channelling.

“Y’know we’re only messin’ right, Tommo?” Niall leans over and gives Louis’ clenched fist a quick squeeze.

“Yeah yeah, just ‘having a laugh’,” Louis nods his head, sounding out the words tersely. “Stop goin’ on about it then, surely you sad fucks have got somethin’ better to talk about than me?”

They don't drop it immediately but eventually the topic moves on. Louis fades into the noise a bit, trying to get himself calm again. He appreciates the cool condensation that coats his palm when he clutches his beer, downing the amber liquid far too quickly.

Louis’ absolutely not keeping tabs on Nick, but he does note that he doesn't contribute much to the conversation after that, and goes out for a fag with Zayn three times in twenty minutes, coming back stinking like an ashtray.

Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on him for most of the night, and when Niall is staring down at his phone, Nick and Zayn are outside being dry ice machines and Liam is in the loo, Harry corners him.

“Lou, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realise what he was gonna do, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, H,” Louis sighs, before adding, “It’s not your fault you’re friends with a prick.”

The words are meant to bite, meant to hurt Harry a little bit, and from the flicker of his lashes and the pallor of his cheeks it looks like it's sufficiently affected him.

“Are you gonna be all right?” Harry asks next.

“What?” Louis murmurs in disbelief. “Yeah, of course Harry, God, I’m not a child, gonna run home t’mum and cry! Jesus.”

He goes to get up, indicating his empty glass. Harry springs to his feet too, Niall not even noticing the sudden commotion.

“I know, Lou, I didn’t-” Harry goes to reach for his arm at the same time Louis pulls him in close. He lifts onto his tiptoes to make himself as tall as his best friend and proceeds to ruffle Harry’s hair and kiss his cheek.

“Haz, you beautiful fucking idiot, don't worry, okay?” You’re forgiven.”

“Thanks Lou,” Harry wriggles out of his arms and smoothes over his hair.

“Goin’ the loo, see you in a min.”

“All right man,” Harry nods and goes to sit back down with the group. Louis puts his empty glass down on the nearest side and heads towards the toilets, side stepping a group of people loitering in the passage. He keeps his head down, uninterested in any more advances. Not that he’s conceited enough to think that he might get any, of course.

It wasn’t particularly noisy in the pub but bursting into the toilets and letting the door bang closed in the frame feels like heaven. He makes his way into a cubicle and does his business, standing just staring at the top of the cistern for minutes on end.

As he barges his way out of the toilets, the door banging unintentionally loud as he does, he just catches sight of Harry and Niall disappearing outside to the smoking area, their table deserted apart from their empty glasses and crisp packets.

He dashes out of the door in the same direction, catching up to Harry just as they get outside. He’s got a pitcher of purple cocktail that he dunks two straws in and they share it together. They all huddle around the outdoor heater and smoke; three out of six of them forgetting their previously non-smoking ways.

Nick and Zayn continue their unlikely partnership but when Nick saunters back round to Harry’s side, resting his stupid head on his shoulders and mumbling nonsensical drunken nothings in his ear, Louis moves away. He feels Harry’s hand linger on his waist as he moves, but it falls away and he ignores it.

He pitches up with Niall and the bleary eyed Irishman smiles broadly at him. “Tommo! Drink?”

++

“Let’s go into town!” Harry suggests brightly as the pub empties out and they move to the car park.

Louis’ protesting is drowned out by an overriding chorus of cheers and he finds himself in the back of a taxi sandwiched between Zayn and Harry, headed for town. They’re all drunk and loose enough to forgo the proper hotspots in favour of Boogie Nights, a 70’s, 80’s and 90’s themed club with cheap drinks and mirrored surfaces at every turn.

They order three pitchers that come served in sticky, fingerprinty plastic pitchers that reflect the fact that admission is free and drinks are only five pound a pitcher.

“Thank fuck for straws, eh? I would _not_ want to put to put my mouth on that rim!” Nick comments, nudging Louis’ arm as Harry appears with a handful of black plastic drinking straws that he distributes.

It takes two or three songs for Louis to loosen up, though it is hilarious watching the other boys dancing to the cheesy disco tunes. Niall, unsurprisingly, commandeers the floor as he struts about finger punching the air to the Bee Gees.

The dance floor comprises scuffed light boxes in all colours of the rainbow, several disco balls and strobe lights in green and red and blue darting about the place without discernible patterns.

“C’mon Lou, dance with me!” Harry grabs him when Tainted Love comes on.

Harry holds onto his hands tightly and spins them around, moving in time to the thudding bassline of the song. He smiles so wide, letting go of one hand and beginning to move around, head lolling on his shoulders and his free arm flailing about as if it’s on its own circuit.

“I’m sorry I don’t pray that way!” He howls, audible over the music. Jesus, Louis loves this boy, but he’s relieved when he sees Zayn signal that he’s going for a smoke. Louis shimmies back into Harry’s orbit and motions to him, the boy coming down from his natural high and nodding eagerly. The two of them follow Zayn and Nick towards the smoking area, Harry’s arm linked through his as they go.

Louis smokes one of Zayn’s cigarettes and Harry steals the last two or three puffs as he dances around the deck to the far off sounds of the Spice Girls.

“If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends!” He sings in an off-key falsetto. “Make it last forever, friendship never ends!”

Louis grins broadly as he watches his friend move around the place without a care, completely unburdened and relaxed. He can’t help the pangs of jealousy he feels when watching Harry, but those feelings are accompanied by an admiration and a warm bloom of appreciation to have Harry to – quite literally – look up to.

“Summat else, in’t he?” Nick nudges him with his elbow, looking over at Harry spinning about singing.

“He is indeed,” Louis agrees, smiling fondly. Nick sits down on the bench across from him, crossing one leg over the other and cupping his chin in his hand and smoking his roll up right down to the filter. Louis watches him bounce his foot as he sits there, looking around the place critically.

“’Ere, goin’ for a piss,” Zayn says bluntly, holding out the dog end of his cigarette for Louis. He jumps up to take it and as he does Harry comes barrelling back over, laughing at something Louis wasn’t sure of. The rest of the boys begin to follow Zayn in, Niall leading Harry in by the shoulders, Louis feels a touch on his wrist that makes him shudder with surprise.

“Stay for a bit?” Nick asks, Louis hyper aware of Nick’s loose grip on his wrist. Louis looks back to where the others are heading back inside. Silently he nods. Nick smiles and lets go of his arm. He pats the seat next to him and Louis sits back down.

“Sorry, by the way,” Nick says, quite casually. “For earlier on. The phone thing.”

Louis looks at Nick, somewhere between wanting to forget and wanting to force a proper apology out of him. In the end he goes for the latter, the easier option.

“S’alright. Just forget it, eh?”

Nick nods in agreement and moves quickly on. “So why d’you not look like you’re having a good time?”

“I am,” Louis says, obviously unconvincingly. “Honest!”

“Not really your scene is it?” Nick asks, straightening out his leg to reach into his pocket for his tobacco. Louis shakes his head sheepishly. “And they say _I’m_ the old man!”

Louis shoves Nick with his shoulder effortlessly. Nick turns and gives him a small smile before settling into silence. Nick rolls a cigarette. He holds the first one out to Louis and then makes a second for himself.

“Before we know where we are it’ll be Christmas.” Is what Nick goes with when he strikes their conversation back up.

Louis can’t help but smile at how random that is. He struggles to remind himself that he was pissed off at Nick an hour ago. “Solid small talk, Nick.”

“Shut up, Christmas is the most magical time of the year!” Nick murmurs, cigarette between his lips. “What about you? Do you go back home for Christmas or what?”

Louis thinks of an answer as Nick lights his cigarette but Nick all of a sudden lets out a loud, barking laugh before he can think of anything. “Ha! I sound like I’m in Harry Potter!”

Louis snorts. “Why?”

Nick launches into something Potter-related that’s long and involved, and Louis switches off after the first few words. He watches Nick talk, his glassy eyes animated and lit up with enthusiasm as he prattles on.

“Lou?”

Louis zones back in to see Nick smirking at him. He’s finished talking and is looking at him expectantly; he knows he’s been caught out. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said, I take it from that vacant stare that you’re not into Harry Potter?”

“Oh I... not really, no.” Louis confesses. “I only ever saw the first one ‘cause my sisters had it on DVD.”

“Ooh!” Nick laughs. “Sacrilege!”

“Sorry.” Louis giggles into his shoulder. “Does that mean I have to leave now?”

Nick laughs too and puts a hand on Louis’ knee to stop him going anywhere. “No no, you can stay!”

Nick is so soft with him; Louis brain fills in gaps with things that aren’t supposed to fit, like a toddler putting the square block in the circular hole.

“So you’ve got no feelings either way if I tell you I’m Team Drarry?”

“Uh, nope, I don’t know what that means, but you’re free to believe what you want to believe, Nick.”

“People would ship us if we were famous, y’know?” Nick says after a brief pause.

“They’d what us? Louis squeaks.

“Ship us. Like, fantasise about us being a couple.” Nick says plainly, and Louis has to swallow hard. “Although, I don’t think any of us would be safe from Harry! He’d be the heartthrob linked to everyone, for sure. Even the straight boys - no one would be safe! Our Harry, that is. Not Potter.”

“Yeah, as if you and Harry haven’t… or whatever, in the past!”

“Haven’t what- oh my God, no!” Nick exclaims, taking a quick drag of his cigarette and spluttering out the smoke. “That’d be dead weird wouldn’t it!”

Louis would be inclined to agree, but only because the overriding jealous side of him would be destroyed by the confirmation of anything between Nick and Harry – past, present or future. Instead of entrusting himself to pass any comment on anything vaguely resembling Nick’s love life, Louis casts his mind back to what they were talking about before Harry Potter cropped up.

“But uh, to answer your original question, yes I’m going back to Doncaster for Christmas. It’s my birthday Christmas Eve, so…”

Nick lights up. “No way!” He enthuses. “A babe in arms for Xmas, how lucky was your mum?!”

Louis rolls his eyes at the idiotic way Nick literally says ‘Xmas’ instead of ‘Christmas’. He doesn't acknowledge the underlying fact that he’s endeared by Nick’s weird quirks. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and expels the smoke before answering.

“Yeah, I dunno if I’d call it lucky. More unlucky.”

“Double the pressies though!” Nick says with a chuckle.

“Only until like, age ten. Then it stops, people just get you ‘a big present’ to cover both. Wrapped in Christmas paper, standard.”

“Spoilt brat,” Nick says playfully.

“Shut up, you started it!” Louis retorts.

“Shurrup, I believe it was you _poutin’_ about crap birthday presents that started it!”

“I did not say that!” Louis shrieks in his defense. “You’re puttin’ words in me mouth!”

Nick falters a bit as they laugh and Louis suddenly can’t notice anything but that; it fizzles out and Nick quietens down but his smile remains. “Havin’ more fun now?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers bashfully after a minute. “Jus’ a coincidence, though.”

Nick laughs out loud again at that. They smoke two more cigarettes before a bewildered Liam appears in the doorway waving them down.

“Grimmy, I think Harry needs to go home, mate.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Louis leaps up, forgetting Nick completely. He grabs Liam by the forearm. “How much has he had to drink, Liam?”

Harry is in the distance behind Liam, being propped up by a struggling Niall. He is misstepping every step and reaching out to grab hold of things to hold on to that aren't actually there. Louis pushes past Liam and heads towards Harry.

Louis thinks Niall might cry with relief when he spots him approaching, the look on his face is akin to panic.

“What’s he had, he was fine half hour ago!  Fucking hell!”

“Hazza, mate, Lou’s here!” Niall shouts, letting the boy go. Harry staggers forward into Louis’ arms and Louis only just manages to catch him.

“Harry!” Louis speaks clearly, pushing Harry against the wall and taking his face in his hands, a firm, reassuring hand on each side of his neck. “Harry, it’s me. You all right, mate?”

Harry isn't looking at Louis but past him, eyes red and lids hooded. “Lou, we… we goin’ home?”

“Yeah, it’s time for bed now, mate.”

“Fucking poofs,” Someone mutters as they pass by. Louis hears it but he grits his teeth and ignores it, focussing on Harry who is certainly none the wiser, thank God.

“C’mon Harry love, we’re heading out now okay. Zayn’ll call a taxi.” Louis says, loudly so Zayn gets the message.

“One more drink, there's one… more drink left in t’pitcher!” Harry argues, but it’s weak and he follows without much encouragement.

The bouncers give them a look of disgust as Louis stumbles through the emptying club towards the exit, just about managing to keep Harry on his feet. Out in the cool air of the street he feels better, the heat from the smoking area and Nick’s body so close to his, the sticky warmth of the club; it had all been too much very quickly.

“Harry, y’alright you massive bellend?” Niall shouts in his face as Louis sits Harry down on a nearby wall.

Louis thumps Niall and then tracks Zayn down, double checking he’s ordered the taxi.

“Where the _fuck_ is Liam?” He curses as he tries to group everyone back up together before the taxi turns up. “Payno, get here!” He yells across the way to Liam who is stumbling around trying to check his bank balance at the cash point.

“Forget it Liam, mate, you don’t need cash now! I’ve got this.” He tells him, guiding him over to a space next to Harry on the wall.

Louis runs through a quick headcount, panicking when he can’t find number five until he remembers himself, and then realises there were actually six of them.

“Nick?” He murmurs under his breath, spinning around a full three sixty until he spots Nick standing just off to the side, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other awkwardly handling a fag.

“Are you okay?” Nick asks, his voice sounding loud and clear, feeling foreign to Louis’ ears as if he hasn't just been sat chatting to him for half an hour.

“Yeah, he’s… I- sorry, I-”

“It’s all right, Lou. You take care of him yeah, sleep it off. Make sure he doesn't wake up dead.”

Neither of them says anything as Nick takes one last pull and then stubs it out under his shoe.

Louis smiles a watery smile. It feels remarkably like he should be doing something else right now. It feels like a natural cue that for some reason he just keeps missing.

While he’s busy contemplating that, he hears a commotion behind him and looks back over his shoulder just in time to see Harry slump forwards off his wall into a pile on the floor.

“Fucking hell!” Louis mutters, moving to help, but Nick’s arm comes out to stop him.

“He’s okay,” Nick tells him. “He’s not hurt, he’s just drunk. Zayn’s there.”

Louis watches as Zayn bends down with a loud, aggravated sigh to try and drag Harry back up to sitting. Niall and Liam take a leg each and Zayn picks Harry up under his arms, attempting to lift him on a count of three.

“Liam, swap wi’ me, you’re stronger!” Zayn huffs, letting go of Harry and letting him fall back to the ground. Louis itches to move, desperately torn between the tragic scene and staying with Nick.

“It’s fine, see?” Nick says as they watch Liam and Zayn swap. Liam hoiks Harry back up to sitting without much input from the other two.

“He’s a fucking embarrassment,” Louis mumbles bitterly as Nick smirks absently.

“I’m just glad it’s not me,” Nick snorts and Louis smiles weakly. He’s vaguely aware of the sound of an engine approaching, car doors clunking open and the boys around him starting to move Harry again.

“So I guess I’ll see you?” Nick supplies, giving him a farewell pat on the arm. A fucking _pat_ on the fucking _arm_.

“Are you not...”

“Nah, there’s enough goin’ on. Take care yeah?”

Louis nods dumbly and Nick gives him a small smile, accepting Zayn’s one armed hug and kissing Harry’s forehead before wandering off with a waving hand in the air as he retreats. Louis can see the light from his phone illuminating the ends of Nick’s stupid hairdo, and then he sees him far in the distance on the phone, maybe to a guy, maybe to a friend, a taxi service? He doesn’t want to think about it too much.

“Tommo, you comin’ or what?”

Zayn’s voice calls him from behind. He blinks heavily and looks away from Nick’s disappearing silhouette.

“C’mon, before that twat is sick in the back of the taxi!”

++

Harry’s head lolls about and his limp body gives way with every twist and turn of the taxi down the road. Louis’ heart is in his mouth every time they stop at traffic lights; knowing that every second they’re going nowhere is a second closer to a potential vomit outburst.

“Lou?” Harry gasps to life and reaches out for him, seeking out his voice in the dark.

“S’alright, I’m here. We’re almost home.”

“Feel sick, Lou.”

“No, just hold that in, we’re almost there.” He runs his hands through Harry’s sweaty hair and rolls down the window, much to Niall’s chagrin.

Louis wills the driver to speed up with his mind, and is a nervous wreck by the time they finally pull up outside their house.

“C’mon, out!” Louis instructs, undoing Harry’s seatbelt for him and flinging open the door as soon as the security lock dings off. “Harry mate, move!”

Harry is sick just as Louis gets him out of the taxi, all over the pavement and Louis’ trainers. He keeps his eyes away from the sight and holds his breath as he soothes Harry’s back and stops him from collapsing into the pool of vomit.

Someone pays the taxi driver and someone gets the front door open, but who that is, Louis doesn't know. By the time he gets Harry through the gate, up the three steps to their front door, into the hallway and out of his shoes and jacket, kicked his own sicky shoes back outside onto the steps and got Harry upstairs he’s physically sweating and short of breath.

Sober, Harry is bigger than him but when he’s drunk his limbs inexplicably become longer and more spaghetti-like; he clings and he cuddles and he trips. Louis dumps Harry into his own bed and jogs back downstairs to get some water.

“Harry, drink this!” He shouts upon his return, the boy on his side not even flinching. “Harry!” He runs a hand firmly up and down Harry’s spine, tickling his ribs until he makes the most inhuman noise and opens his eyes.

Getting Harry to drink is easier said than done. Getting Harry’s jeans off him is impossible, and he tries to ignore as best he can the fact that Harry isn't wearing any boxers. Louis takes it all in his stride, putting Harry into some joggers and then into bed.

The rest of the house is silent around him when he finally steps back from a sleeping Harry. Wiping his brow, he takes off his own jeans and grabs his phone from the pocket. As the screen tilts it illuminates and shows a seventeen minute old message from Nick’s still unsaved number.

 **Unknown Number:** ‘ _You were a little star tonight lou. That lot don’t deserve u, spesh Harry. Look after him n yourself. Night x x. Ps I’m sorry again for that act at the bar x_

He really should save Nick’s number.

++

On Saturday morning, Louis wakes up alone. Now there’s nothing unusual about that, normally, but last night he fell asleep next to a Harry. He reaches out and pats around on the mattress; it’s cold to the touch.

Flinging the covers back and throwing his creaky old legs over the edge, Louis stands up. He staggers out of his room towards the bathroom; no Harry to be found but he does come across a Zayn.

His skin is a sallow shade of pale yellow and his productless flat hair is a mess  

“Mornin’,” Louis mumbles, voice thick and raspy with the morning. Zayn just give an unconvincing thumbs up and clunks the bathroom door closed.

As he gets nearer to the stairs he can hear movement downstairs in the kitchen. From the gap in the door he can see someone - Liam? - in the living room, and in the kitchen is where he finds Harry.

“Haz?” He croaks, slumping against the door frame. “What you doin’?”

Harry turns around, his face crumpling. He surges forward and almost knocks Louis off his feet - again - this time in a massive bear hug. “I’m sorry for makin’ a tit of myself and ruinin’ the night. Thank you for takin’ care of me, Lou-Lou.”

Louis hugs Harry back, patting circles between his shoulder blades. “It’s all right, you big oaf. Don’t worry.” It’s ridiculous but he feels close to tears. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

Harry separates from him and steps back. He’s trembling and he’s awfully pale. “Not good,” He shakes his head sadly. “I was making egg sarnies for your brekkie.”

“No you’re not, sit down.” Louis instructs, stepping forward and removing the empty frying pan from the heat under the hob. “You should go back to bed, Haz. Sleep it off.”

Harry nods but doesn't move. “I can’t even remember gettin’ in or… anything at all. Fucking shit. I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Louis says. “You’re twenty three, you’re supposed to be out there havin’ fun.”

He’s not sure how fun getting blackout drunk is and whether he should really be condoning it, but his basic message is still the same and he knows that despite his penchant for drinking, Harry is a smart man.

“I’d probably be dead without you.” Harry says, all too candidly.

“Shut up, Styles.” Louis giggles nervously. “Do you want egg sarnies too or are you going back to bed?”

“Bed, please?” Harry says sheepishly.

“Of course,” Louis turns the tap on and pours him a glass of water. Taking two paracetamol out of the lunchbox of medicines in the cupboard, he hands them to Harry. “Take these, down that, sleep it off.”

“Easy as 1-2-3.” Harry smiles before dropping the tablets onto his tongue.

++

The mood around the house is delicate and sombre all of Saturday and most of Sunday too. They don’t manage much in the way of _anything_ apart from the pasta bake that Harry makes on Sunday evening as a peace offering, not believing that the other boys have forgiven him already for his drunken antics of Friday night.

Nick doesn't show up all weekend and Harry returns home from work on Monday evening alone. Louis doesn't notice, except he really does. That night, he saves Nick’s number to his phone and replies to his original message.

_‘I kept Harry alive.’_

_‘That you did. A true hero. I think I speak for the entire staff and customers of hmv when I say that xx’_

_‘You’re deffo still a twat x’_

_‘Wounded. Xx’_

On Tuesday night, Louis, Liam and a still-subdued Harry spend the evening at home, taking it in turns to answer the front door to trick or treaters while Niall and Zayn are off doing fun things like most other people in their mid-twenties are for Halloween.

Louis removes his glasses and rubs his tired eyes, remembering distantly that he’s going to run out of contact lens solution in the morning. They’ve watched 8 Out of 10 Cats and Rude Tube, but Louis _has_ to call it a night when Liam switches to American Dad on ITV2.

Overnight, October transforms into a dark and cold November. His kids all want to talk about how big their Halloween hauls were and how many sweets they were allowed to eat before bed. A few even claimed they were allowed sweets for breakfast too. Louis learned long ago to just humour them.

The class has been split into two groups of ten, although Louis only has nine because little Amber-Leigh is at home with a poorly tummy.

Each child has a print out of a number between 1 and 10, he’s jumbled them up and later on after they’ve coloured them in they’re going to practice getting into number order. He takes Amber-Leigh’s number 8 and carefully colours it in green and yellow stripes whilst keeping half an eye on the kids.

The tiny seats are uncomfortable and his legs stick out awkwardly at angle because he’s too tall to fit them under the table. He doesn’t stop to think about the comments regarding his height that the boys would make if they were here; their mock-shock at him actually being too tall for something for a change.

As they’re colouring and squabbling and generally chattering loudly, Louis tries to get them thinking about their numbers. He gets each child to say their number out loud, and they go over the sequences a few times for practice. Once the colouring is complete he gets them all up on their feet, gathers them around on the carpet and begins the joyous task of getting them all in order.

Number one and number ten are easy; they get themselves in place without hesitation. Lexi, number five, takes her place next to four because four is how old she was and then after her birthday she became five. When he asks the group what comes after five a few of them correctly guess six and Magdalena and her number six take place next to Lexi.

There is some confusion with the bigger numbers, but with a bit of sing song they all get in place, Tomasz holding both his own number seven and Louis’ number eight. Number nine and number three swap places and then everyone is in place looking pleased as punch with themselves.

Miss Harris’ group finish at around about the same time, just in time for lunch. Louis tidies up the pencils and pens and then goes to lunch. He chats with Gina for a bit because Perrie is on lunchtime supervision, but he can’t help but be distracted by his phone lighting up in his peripheral vision.

Gina is good enough to spare him the embarrassment and excuses herself as if she is the one without time for him, not the other way round.

Louis waits, hands trembling, until she has gone before reaching for his phone.

_‘Harry wants to know if Sunday roast on a Wednesday is okay for tea? x’_

‘And Harry cant do that himself? x’

_‘Nope the silly twats cut off all his fingers x’_

‘Oh dear. But yes Sunday roast on a weds is fine x’

Nick sends an angel emoji and then a minute later, ‘ _Have a nice afternoon moulding the minds of the future xxx’_

The three kisses on the end of the text play on Louis’ mind all afternoon.

++

The Wednesday night roast is a good one; Harry makes the lightest, fluffiest tray of Yorkshire pudding Louis’ ever tasted (that wasn’t made by his mum) and Nick sits opposite but one to him, winding him up and smirking on the sly like he’s _sooo_ funny.

The fact that he’s run out of lens solution pops into Louis’ head a few times during tea and the casual, lazy few hours that follow but he’s in bed, squinting and his eyes stinging from the bright glow of his phone before he thinks to put in an order for some more.

He’s been texting Nick since he left two hours ago, unable or unwilling or something else to cut short their conversation which seems to be rattling on without ever being about anything in particular.

Of course the pharmacy is shut now, the prescriptions line closed. Things get no better as he continues to stay awake, eyes past the point of stinging now and just feeling dry like sandpaper, every blink is pain.

He eventually gives in at quarter to two.

_‘I’m gonna try and sleep now, my eyes hurt x’_

‘Night love xx’

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Louis staggers straight to the bathroom on Thursday morning, reaches for the little pod with his lenses in and then remembers. He throws the empty plastic into the sink stroppily and presses his freezing cold fingertips into his eyes with a ragged sigh until all he can see are splodges.

He blinks them away and then goes back to his room to find his glasses.

Liam salutes him with a slice of toast twenty minutes later in the kitchen. “All right Tommo?”

They’re the only two up but he did pass a zombie-like Harry on the landing as he’d exited the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Louis looks up at the clock. “Two minutes ‘til I’m officially running late, I’m out of stuff for my contacts and it’s still not bloody Friday. Other than that, peachy.”

Liam smiles. He’s off to his 9-5 too, with about as much enthusiasm as Louis. “Have a goodun, pal. See you later on.”

++

He’s forgotten about the fucking contact lens solution,  _ again _ . After initially planning to phone his prescription through instead of take time out of his day standing in a queue, the line had been busy and then the next time he tried they were closed. By the time he tried again at lunchtime he was greeted by an automated message .

T hat’s how he finds himself stood at the self-checkout in Tesco at quarter to midnight on a Friday evening, waiting for the help to arrive, as he tries to buy some random brand contact lens solution, dry eye drops, a bottle of bubble bath and his own body weight in salted caramel muffins, Mini Rolls and strawberry milkshake.

“Sorry love!” The lady comes hobbling over to him eventually, after spending what seemed like twenty minutes standing their listening to the machine’s automated voice telling him that an unexpected item is in the bagging area. “Pesky machines, aren’t they!”

He just nods. He’d chosen the self-serve because of the shameful amount of junk food he was in possession of, and he’s glad to have it concealed away in a bag for life, along with the only thing he actually came shopping for.

The walk home isn’t too far but there are a few dark alley ways to cut through so Louis rings Harry for a bit of reassurance while he’s walking. He can hear Nick in the background irritating Harry and talking to the others, and he tries to ignore the spikes in his heart rate every time he hears Nick mutter something or crack up laughing in the way that he does.

When he gets home he’s disappointed to find that Harry wasn’t speaking to him from their house but from somewhere far away and far more fun. The house is dark and cold; the hallway light needs a new bulb. Louis stumbles his way past shoes and bags to the living room and throws himself down on the sofa.

“I’m home now, Haz, go back to your party or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“It’s just low key, it’s nothin’ much really. Oi!” He suddenly yelps, not to Louis. “Sorry. Okay, well I’ll probably just crash at Nick’s so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Louis’ twang of jealousy is completely unreasonable. “Okay mate, see you tomorrow.”

“Love you lots.” Harry sings down the phone, his end muffled and noisy again.

“You too, H.”

He’s definitely having the worst evening out of all of his friends. Between house parties and dates and pub crawls, he’s the only one home alone with just his thoughts and junk food for company.

Slowly and steadily, four incoherent messages from Nick come through. It’s now quarter to two in the morning and up until this point Louis hadn’t been thinking about sleep. Wrappers for three Mini Rolls and the paper case of one muffin are scattered around him and his mouth is disgustingly sweet and sticky.

Nick is very drunk. Replying to Nick’s texts would surely be nothing but detrimental to his own sanity and feelings for the stupid oaf, so he leaves them unread.

++

The weekend is awful and as a new week begins something shifts, spurred on by the contact lens debacle. t’s not even Louis that notices anything is wrong, though, but Liam.

“You all right, mate?” He asks, drawing his brow down with concern. “You seem stressed?”

Louis’ just woken up. In that moment he can’t remember his name or what day it is and he wants to  _ kill _ the person that woke him up. He’s curled into the corner of the sofa, the back of his neck burning with the heavy weight of his head that had fallen forward while he was sleep. The bottom of his back and legs are sweating, he feels disgusting. That’s without the disorientated sinking feeling of waking up from a nap that ran on too long.

He extends an aching leg and rubs at his eyes, panicking for a moment that he can’t remember taking out his lenses. He spots his glasses on the coffee table and Niall helpfully reaches out and passes them over.

With his glasses on he can see a bit clearer; his headache seems to improve some.

“I’m fine, what’re you on about?” He answers Liam eventually.

“Lou, you’ve been asleep since half six.” Niall says. Louis just looks at him. “It’s half ten now.”

“So?”

“You didn’t finish your tea.”

“So I’ll warm it up, what’s the big deal?”

“Just… want to make sure you’re okay?” Harry says, and Louis retracts them. Harry looks really quite concerned. “You seem stressed.”

“It’s just a busy time,” He mumbles, feeling embarrassed for having all eyes on him. “I’m fine, lads, honestly.”

++

When they wake him from his slumber the next evening, it’s with his laptop on his knee and a page full of N’s where he should be typing up Rueben’s progress report.

He doesn’t know how long he was asleep for but Harry and Nick are now home and sitting on the sofa in their fetching uniforms peering at him with concern.

“What the fuck?” Louis mumbles, irritated having just been woken up. “Stop starin’ you lot! I’m just tired and getting ready for parents evening!”

He snaps his laptop lid closed abruptly and stands up. “I’m going to my room.”

“Just one more day and it’s the weekend, Lou.” Harry tells him, smiling reassuringly. Louis nods and gently pinches Harry’s arm as he passes. “Night, love.”

“See you.”

Louis takes a cuppa with him and tucks his laptop under his arm. The peace of his bedroom is almost deafening, and the dim yellow light trickling from the lamp makes him feel sleepy again.

He pulls himself up from slumped to sitting, hoping that will help his cause. He opens the laptop again and waits while the ancient old thing reconnects. He empties all the N’s out of his typing space and tries to clear his head.

In ten minutes all he’s managed to type is  _ Reuben has had a great start to the year with us in Reception. _ He exhales deeply and pulls his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly.

There’s a knock on the door. It’s so soft Louis doesn’t actually acknowledge it the first time, putting it down to the pipes behind the walls. Then he hears it again, and the softest whisper of his name he’s ever heard. He’s scrambling out of bed to get to the door when it opens, Nick’s head coming around the door.

He peers up at Louis and smiles when their eyes meet. “Hiya,” He says softly, slinking in and closing the door quietly behind him. “Are you all right?”

“What… what’re you doing?” Louis asks dumbly, hearing how rude that sounded in his head as he plays it back. He winces silently. “I mean, hi.”

Nick smirks, breathing heavily out of his nose. “Fancy some shit company an’ some shit biccies?” He asks, revealing a packet of Aldi brand chocolate digestives from up the sleeve of his hideous brown and yellow knitted jumper. Louis hates the stupid thing. He hates those Aldi biscuits too, but he’s nodding before he can stop himself.

Nick smiles broadly and it’s almost like he’s relieved; like he was afraid of being rebuffed. No, that can’t be it… can it?

Louis closes his laptop once again and draws his legs up so he’s sitting cross legged on his pillows, legs still warm from where the laptop had been sat. Nick fills the space with his lanky self; propped up against the wall with one leg dangling off the edge of the mattress.

He pushes two biscuits up with his thumb and Louis takes the top one, inspecting it gingerly. He watches discreetly Nick take the other and holds it up like a pint of beer.

“Cheers!” He says softly, and Louis taps their biscuits together, smiling weakly. He nibbles the edge carefully; they’re like cardboard, they really are.

Nick giggles suddenly, spluttering biscuit crumbs out as he takes a bite. “God, these really are heinous, aren’t they?”

Louis snaps his own sad biscuit in half and examines the cross section like a mad scientist. A mad biscuit scientist. Dream job there.

“You could’ve grabbed Niall’s McVities.” He says quietly.

“Didn’t know I was allowed,” Nick smirks. “Must try harder next time, got it. You can write that on my school report.”

Louis looks at Nick with narrow eyes and then snorts. “You’re fairly odd, aren’t you?”

“Can I apologise?” Nick says next, charging right at the point without preamble.

“For what?” Louis asks, swallowing thickly. “Being odd?”

Nick smiles. “No. For all that windin’ you up about being due a week off,” Nick says, and Louis’ mind is immediately cast back to early October when Nick was constantly ribbing him about half term and being so desperate for a week off. “I don’t know what I’m chattin’ about half the time, okay? I didn’t realise all this was so stressful.”

“It’s okay-”

“No, I’m a twat. You look… you look really knackered, Lou. You deserve a break, and you’re doing a good job.”

For a horrible moment Louis fears he might cry. He hasn’t had recognition like that from someone that wasn’t a colleague or his mum for years. He laughs because he’s socially inept and can’t think of anything else to do.

“That was… uncharacteristically kind, Nick.”

Nick laughs, tipping his head up heavenwards and patting a hand over his chest. “I’m so much more than just a dickhead, Lou.”

“I never thought that you were!” Louis says, grinning broadly with Nick’s soft and rounded ‘Lou’ still ringing in his ears. Nick just rolls his eyes.

“You probably did, at least once,” Nick says with a self-deprecating smile. “Hopefully you don’t still think that, though.”

“Not that often,” Louis smiles. Nick rolls his eyes.

“What’re you working on anyway?”

“You don’t care,” Louis says bashfully, but Nick nods earnestly.

“I do. Please tell me.” Nick says, pushing himself up the bed a bit.

Louis tries not to be obvious with how his body reacts to that; heart quickening, skin tingling, cheeks flushing. He sneaks a glance at Nick, unable to stop the corner of his lip curling up into a smile. His heart is hammering; this crush business is going to kill him.

_ Crush, _ he realises. It’s the first time he’s put a name to this thing with Nick that’s spiralling out of control. He clears his throat, feeling his cheeks start to burn crimson.

“Okay, fine… well I’m still working on their progress reports. I’m doing ‘em alphabetically.”

“Right, well what letter are you on right now?”

“R,” Louis says.

“That’s not so bad! More than half way through the alphabet.”

“I can’t… I don't even know if I'm speaking English anymore. I’ve seen the word ‘curriculum’ so many times now it’s just not making sense. It doesn’t look right! There’s too many u’s! And who calls their kid ‘Destiannah’ by the way - it’s a made up fucking name!”

Nick snorts and smirks, helpful. “Forget it for now and come back to it tomorrow.”

“That your motto is it? Fuck it, I’ll try again tomorrow?”

Nick laughs, wide mouthed and loud and as he does he slumps down the bed a bit, propping himself up on his elbow. Louis can’t help but flinch as Nick reaches out for his metal pencil tin.

“Oh that’s just- it’s stupid-” He flares with embarrassment as Nick pops the lid off the tin and examines the contents.

“This is all dead posh stuff,” Nick comments as he rolls the tin around in his hands, the stationery inside clinking against the metal. He’s got Staedtler pencils that he keeps sharpened at all times, a red pen, a blue pen and a black pen, a sharpener and a shatterproof ruler.

“It’s stupid, I know,” Louis mumbles, wondering if Nick’s spotted the Parker fountain pen with his mum’s Nickname for him engraved into the lid.

“Loubear?” Nick utters softly, looking up. Louis’ heart drops. “That’s unbearably cute.”

“Shut up, my mum got them for me when I got my first teaching job. She was really poorly when I was doing my training and it was- they’re just special y’know and I know it’s not cool or-”

Nick places, for just half a beat, a comforting hand on his thigh. A lump forms in his throat. “Louis?”

Suddenly Louis has no idea what to do with his hands, gathered in his lap fidgeting with his finger nails and scratching at the skin around his thumb until it hurts. He won’t look at Nick, just keeps his gaze fixed on a mark on the duvet cover.

“You can’t do your job without pens. Just like a builder can’t do his job without tools, or a pilot can’t do his job without an aeroplane.” Nick pauses because Louis’ looking up at him, completely enamoured by this nonsensical rambling, a smile split right across his face. Nick blushes and there’s a giggling lilt to his voice as he continues. “Shut up, I’m goin’ somewhere with this, okay?”

“Okay.” Louis nods, his voice shrill and wobbly with nerves and happiness.

“I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I’d laugh at your for having posh pens, for having a close relationship with your mam. I don’t know what you’ve been through, I don’t want you to feel like you have t’tell me, but I’m sorry for bein’ a knob to you in the past when I should’ve… I should’ve been lettin’ you know how much I like you.”

Louis can barely breathe; his throat feels thick with that same lump from earlier threatening to finish him off. Nick exudes a confidence that Louis could only aspire to but he’s not cocky with it, not like times gone by where he’d be taking the piss or making an idiot of himself to garner the attention of everyone nearby.

This is different; this is Nick, not Grimmy the performer, the loudmouth idiot.

“Nick…” He murmurs, but Nick just shakes his head minutely.

“Lou, I… can I kiss you?”

Louis’ screaming yes in his head but he’s not sure he’s making a sound. His heart thumps in a steady but rapid rhythm, adrenaline building inside of him rapidly in the second or two between Nick asking and Nick pressing their lips together.

The angle is all wrong but it’s the best first kiss he’s ever had. He’s smiling before Nick’s lips have even left his. He feels Nick’s lips quirk too and he pulls away, lightly head butting Louis’ shoulder before looking up. His eyes sparkle, and Louis sort of hates himself for recognising that.

“Shurrup, this went a lot smoother when I was plannin’ it in me head,” Nick says with a bashful smile as he hoofs himself up the bed to a sitting position. “Try again?”

Louis hums happily in the back of his throat as he nods, wetting his lips quickly as Nick closes the gap between them again, this time getting the angle just right.

Nick rests one hand across Louis’ leg, his touch warm and light. With the other hand he palms at the excess material of Louis’ hoodie, gathered around his middle uselessly. It feels nice to have a grounding connection with Nick, a comfort that makes this feel real.

Nick kisses him again, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right and nestling his nose softly against the side of Louis’ own. It’s obviously been a day or so since he’s shaved, maybe; nothing compared to the fuzz on Louis’ own face that he hasn’t tended to in over a week. Their lips fit together perfectly; Nick deepens the kiss and Louis parts his lips to let his tongue past.

Nick rocks forward slightly, the hand that was gripping Louis’ hoodie moving up to cup his cheek. Nick’s hand is big and his fingers splay into Louis’ hair while the jut of his jawline rests against the heel of Nick’s palm. Nick is very tactile, ghosting his hand up into Louis’ hair when the kiss evolves. They break apart and spend a few seconds just brushing their lips together but not kissing, getting a feel for each other and generating electricity between them with the desire.

“That was nice,” Nick whispers against his lips, leaning back in for another one; closed mouthed, soft and brief then their lips are apart again. He brings his hand down from Louis’ hair and takes hold of Louis’ hands, flattening out his palms and slotting their fingers together tightly.

Louis’ brain is spinning and he leans forward to kiss Nick once again, just to stop himself from saying something ridiculous. Well, not  _ just _ for that reason. There are a few other good reasons for more kisses with Nick that he can think of.

“You’re lovely aren’t you?” Nick smiles at him, squeezing his hands tightly in his own.

“I’m not,” Louis mumbles shyly, having to tear his eyes away from Nick with how exposed he suddenly feels. “I’m a mess. I’m the worst adult alive, I swear.”

“I could fight you for that title,” Nick laughs humourlessly.

“My teaching job and having such a big family, my mum needing so much help when I was growing up, it just sorta… made me old before me time, y’know? All I do is work, one night out down the pub every couple of months, wow exciting.”

The thing is, it doesn’t feel foreign to confess to Nick.

“Lou, I’m thirty two, I’m no longer built for parties an’ getting fall-over drunk. It takes me three days to recover now, there’s ‘owt wrong with being a homebody. In fact, it’s good.”

“Nice guys finish last.” Louis says solemnly.

“Lou, y‘never need to apologise for being there for your family, for working hard or… or for being ‘too nice’. D’ya know how rare that is? Almost every other dickhead I’ve met just cares about one thing. One thing multiple times over the span of a few weeks, but one thing all the same.”

Nick huffs out a sombre laugh. He looks genuine, Jesus Christ he looks so genuine. Louis’ brain can’t even begin to catch up to what he thinks Nick might be insinuating. Sensory and information overload could very well be the death of him, forget the lump in his throat he thought was going to kill him just minutes ago.

“I better go back downstairs,” Nick says, and Louis heart sinks. “I was only supposed to be checkin’ on you.”

Nick gives him a small goodbye wave and an almost sad smile. Louis watches the door after Nick’s gone; surprised to feel a sparkle of hope inside that he’ll come back. Of course, Nick doesn’t.

Sometime later he hears Harry’s voice in the hallway downstairs and then the front door slam. Nick texts him almost immediately after, apologising for not saying a proper goodbye, checking he’s okay and advising him that he should get some sleep. He does, after an hour or so of texting and fully charged hormones that his teenage self would be shocked by.

Louis doesn't know much but he knows he’s completely fucked. His mildly piqued interest in Nick that he was only just beginning to accept has transcended into full on idolisation and all it’s taken is a couple of weeks and three little kisses.

++

There’s no way he’s telling any of the boys about this just yet, not even Harry _. Especially _ not Harry, not yet. But Perrie is far removed enough from his group that he decides she can know. Besides, he’s  _ dying  _ to tell someone.

Perrie squeals and claps her hands together very unsubtly when he tells her. He tries to be vague and go the ‘friend of a friend’ approach, but she wants details.

So Louis tells her everything that he can think of. He feels almost giddy as he talks about Nick.

Nick is thirty two, as Louis himself has just learnt, meaning seven years fall between them. Louis gives Perrie the abridged version of how he knows Nick and where he fits into his social circle, he describes him briefly too, though she slaps his arm and tells him that he is not being helpful at all. 

He collates all of the things he knows about Nick; he’s from Manchester, he’s the baby of his family, he’s at least six foot tall and skinny to boot but in a way that’s different from Harry, but maybe that’s because Louis doesn’t look at Harry in the same way he’s been looking at Nick recently.

“You’re miles away there, love.” Perrie smiles, and he zones back in on her, blinking away his thoughts of Nick. “It must be love!”

He just smiles weakly. “Watch your mouth.”

++

Carrying on as if nothing has changed at home is a bit of a challenge but it’s also sort of fun. On Wednesday evening Harry is doing stock check at work and so isn’t going in until seven pm, so Nick comes by an hour or so beforehand. They steal an illicit kiss in the kitchen with the other lads just a few feet away in the living room and Louis can’t believe this is his life.

On Friday evening the five of them go to the pub and when they get back Nick is sitting cross legged on the sofa in basketball shorts and a white t-shirt watching the telly in the dark of the living room. Louis has to keep himself restrained; they share a relieved smile when it’s just the two of them but then the other five come barrelling in and that moment is over.

Nobody bats an eyelid at Nick getting his phone out and Louis’ phone lighting up a moment later, but Louis doesn’t risk replying to Nick’s message until much later on when he’s in bed.

Louis  spends the weekend with his mum and the girls, long overdue a proper visit. The five of them traipse around Asda with Jay just like when they were kids, they get create-your-own pizzas from the deli and watch Strictly and Casualty on the telly.

The twins don’t go to bed much before Fizzy, which surprises Louis and reminds him how long he’s been away for. At eleven Lottie goes out with hair far too big and a t-shirt dress far too short, his face matching his mum’s one of disdain and bemusement.

“So how are you, babe?” His mum asks as they settle down with tea and biscuits, just the two of them.

“Yeah, good,” He says vaguely. “Got all of the kids’ progress reports done just in time for parents evening next week.”

He’d been close to tears when he’d finally submitted little Xavier Robbins’ progress report the other night. Aside from Harry and Niall who had been home that night to hear his whoops for joy, Nick had been the first person he told.  _ Proud of you Lou _ , Nick had replied.

“Well done sweetheart, I knew you’d do it. Stressful?”

“Yeah,” Louis scoffs. Stressful doesn’t even begin to cut it. “Very much so.”

“You know I’m so proud of you don’t you Lou? You completing your teacher training is one of my best memories. At one point I didn't even think I’d make it to see you-”

“Mum,” Louis cuts in, feeling his heart leap into his throat. “Please.”

“Sorry love,” She smiles, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and he’s not far behind. “I’m sorry. Yes, let’s not dwell. I’m just happy for you. You’ve had a fantastic few years, babe.”

“Yeah, s’been all right, yeah.” He smiles when he thinks about it. The direction that things have taken in the last few weeks or so. “Can’t complain, eh?”

“That’s my boy,” Jay smiles warmly across at him, tea resting on her knee. When Louis looks down at himself he finds he’s sat exactly the same as her, one leg tucked under his body and the other holding up his tea under his chin.

++

It’s pouring with rain outside on Monday afternoon and lingering in the staff room after school talking to Perrie had made him late for the bus he normally catches. There is no point in rushing as it’s half an hour until the next one.

With time to kill he pulls his phone out of his pocket, remembering the  _ ever  _ so distracting vibrating that he could feel against his thigh when he was trying desperately to concentrate on what Perrie was saying.

_ ‘Hi lou how was your day? x’ _

_ ‘So I have a proposition.’ _

_ ‘Go on… x’ _

_ ‘Let’s do something proper this week one night? How do you feel? Xx’ _

_ ‘Can I phone u actually? Xx’ _

_ ‘Im phoning pls answer x’ _

“Hello Nicholas,” Louis answers, shuffling back on the desk so his feet are off the floor.

“Hi, all right?” Nick asks.

“Yep, what was so urgent that you couldn’t text? Wait, don’t tell me you’ve done a Harry and cut all your fingers off too?”

“No, smart arse. I’ll hang up if you’re gonna be like th-”

“No!” Louis yelps. “Sorry. Continue.”

“Did you get my text? What do you reckon?”

“What, do I want to do something?” He pauses, just for a beat, just to be a little shit. “With you?”

For a second Louis thinks Nick's been disconnected. “Yeah?” He says eventually. He sounds terrified all of a sudden, nothing like his confidence exuding Nick, and he immediately feels bad.

“Of course.” He says quickly, Nick exhaling audibly. “What’ve you got in mind?”

“Well,” Nick says, drawing out the syllable a bit, and then his words come out all at once. “Work’s pretty hectic comin’ up Xmas and all that, and I know you’re pretty swamped but we can make one night happen, can’t we?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Nick, d’you always say ‘Xmas’ instead of ‘Christmas’?”

Nick ignores his question in favour of his own. “So, what’s it to be?”

“Well, today’s already Monday, and my hairs gonna get wet when I go outside. Tomorrow, hmm. Wednesday and Thursday is parents evening, and Friday? Friday I normally help with the food shopping delivery.” He explains. Nick is silent on the end of the line, and Louis sort of wishes this was FaceTime just so he could see Nick’s face. Quietly and lightly he adds, “But I can bin that off, of course.”

Louis can practically hear Nick’s smile as it broadens. “I’m glad you said that. I was beginnin’ to think tins of beans are more exciting than me.”

“Nope,” Louis grins down the phone. “Spaghetti hoops mind, that’s a whole other story.”

He’s grinning like a gormless idiot for most of the bus journey home after hanging up with Nick. They’ve tentatively arranged Friday; Nick finishes at six and Harry, being the only person that might be suspicious, has plans too so Louis should be able to sneak out. He may have to come up with a good backstory for where he’s been upon his return but he’s nothing if experienced in that area.

On Tuesday he manages to blag a lift home from Lottie. He’d been in the right place at the right time texting her to enquire about tentative Christmas present ideas for the twins and Fizzy when she’d let slip she was already in town.

He’d had to wait ten minutes by the school gates, but it was a small price to pay for not having to endure the bus home. Plus, it gave him a chance to send pictures of his swinging legs and random emoji combos to Nick, who was either working or ignoring him or possibly both.

“Hiya love!” Harry beams when Louis walks in the house. “You’re home early.”

Louis smirks at the domesticity. “Lotts gave me a lift home.”

“Oh is she still out there, I haven't seen Lottie in ages!”

“Nah, she’s gone now. Sorry.”

“Oh, it's okay. C’mon, sit down here. I’m cooking tea, cottage pie.”

“Yummy.”

“Perfect weather for it, in’t it?” Harry makes a face at the window where a few raindrops reflect  orange from the street lamp against the inky sky. “Comfort food at its finest, cottage pie, really. Can’t beat it, can you? Take Sunday roast out the equation of course. Pizzas nice, curry’s good, but a nice bit of comfort food you can’t beat in winter. Even casserole or stew and dumplings-”

“Harry?” Louis interrupts, watching as Harry’s shoulders tense up. “Shut up, yeah, love? You’re makin’ me dead nervous.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, turning back to the potatoes he was peeling. Louis watches him pick up the peeler in one hand and a potato in the other. The sound of the scrape is methodical and relaxing.

“I’m okay, y’know? I’m not stressed or… depressed or ‘owt like that.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, not turning around. Louis stares at a kink in the wooden table top. He nods. “Are you nodding?”

Snorting, Louis stands up and crosses the small space to Harry, threading his arms around his middle and turning his cheek to the left to rest between Harry’s shoulder blades. He smells like home. “Thanks for lookin’ out for me, Haz.”

“Of course, Lou,” Harry presses his hand to Louis’ that are clasped together over Harry’s tummy. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re so brave about it.”

“My mum’s okay, Harry, that’s all that matters. What happened, yeah it was shit and the worst years of my life but she got through it. I can’t mope about it; it’s not fair to her or to the girls.”

“You know you can mope in secret to me, don’t you? Anytime.”

Louis smiles. “Yeah I do.”

Harry’s cottage pie is magnificent; carrots, peas and broccoli accompanying the main. For the evening Louis forgets about parents evening looming, about the two evenings where he won’t get home until gone seven. But he’s got Friday to look forward to, and he can’t really wait, to be honest.

++

Parents evening round one goes okay. Louis gets home at twenty past seven and Liam has kept barbecue chicken warm in the oven for him, a sight that almost brings his freezing cold, exhausted self to tears. Thursday is much of the same but he gets out earlier than the previous day and is home in time for tea.

What had started out as delirious excitement first thing has turned into rattling apprehension by the end of school on Friday. He’s nervous, but in an excited, vibrating sort of way. It’s going to be the first time he’s been in Nick’s flat. Well, he assumes it’s a flat, he doesn’t actually know.

He’s got two hours to kill, four housemates to dodge and three outfits to choose between. He’s impressed he managed to narrow it down  _ that _ far. He’d really like someone expert input, but he’s rendered himself isolated so the only thing for it is getting Perrie on Face Time.

Her blonde curls are up in a high, messy bun on top of her head and her face is makeup free when she appears on his screen.

“What can I do for you, Tomlinson?” She enquires, enunciating her words so her Geordie accent all but fades away.

Perrie doesn’t ask where he’s off to, thankfully, and he doesn’t tell. She helps him narrow down his choices again, firstly to the navy bomber jacket instead of the black denim, and the three t-shirts that he couldn’t pick between gradually become two and then they play a game of eenie **,** meenie **,** miney **,** moe to pick the winning candidate; a basic white t-shirt with a pinky-purpley -blue design that Louis can’t pinpoint.

Only Niall is around when Louis creeps downstairs at quarter to seven.

“Where you off to lookin’ so devilishly handsome?” Niall asks with a wolf-whistle.

Louis can feel himself go crimson, for Christ sake. “Nowhere, just out with mum and the girls for dinner.”

Niall looks like he is considering this very closely, picking holes in Louis’ lie, but in the end he grins and nods. “Nice one, lad, say hi to the lovely ladies for me, yeah?”

“I will,” Louis lies again, making a mental note to text his mum later and casually drop in that Niall sends his love.

Thankfully Niall has disappeared into the living room when it comes time for Louis to leave. He gives the taxi driver Nick’s address that he’s rehearsed in his head a million times and tries to relax. He sinks back in the seat, runs his clammy palms down his jeans and then gets his phone out.

He texts Nick to let him know he’s en route and then busies his mind reading back over some of their old conversations. He can’t stop himself from grinning at some of the ridiculous things they’ve texted about, Nick’s reply of ‘ _ ok see you soon xx’ _ popping up as he’s scrolling through the archives.

The taxi journey is over abruptly, the man peering back over his shoulder and asking for £14.30. Louis gives him a ten and a five and says keep the change, out of the goodness of his heart.

The building is exactly as Louis had been expecting, probably because he’d looked at it on Google Maps Street View earlier in the week. That had been a low moment. It looks a bit different now, the tree across the way jutting from the concrete paradise is barren and twiggy and the red car that had been parked up at the kerb on Google Maps isn’t there, funnily enough. 

He must look like a loon just stood there on the street searching for a red car that probably no longer lives here, so he steps forward, approaching the three storey building with trepidation.

It takes a moment or two of standing staring at the buzzers on the entry system on the door before he’s brave enough to reach up and press the one marked 12. It’s shrill and makes Louis’ heart pound with surprise.

“Hello?” Nick answers, dragging out the O sound.

“S’Louis.” Louis speaks into the machine.

“Ah, fab, come on up!”

Nick’s voice rings through the intercom, replaced quickly by the horrendous, ear piercing buzz of the door being unlocked. Louis shoulders his way through the door and pulls out his phone again to quadruple check Nick’s text message. Nick’s just buzzed him in via the intercom, this is verifiably the correct place but he’s unreasonably anxious.

His legs tremble even more than his hands as he climbs the stairs, arriving on the first floor to be faced by two doors; number 12 and number 14. Nick’s door is scuffed and the gold numbers have started to turn a funny colour around the edges, his welcome mat is askew and the light overhead is dim and flickery, but Nick can't be blamed for that, he supposes.

He practically leaps out of his skin when the door cracks open before he’s decided he’s ready to proceed and knock.

“There he is,” Nick says softly, smiling around the door. He opens it wider and leans against the frame, cocking one hip out slightly. “You gonna stand outside all night, or…?”

Louis swallows down his nerves and embarrassment and nods. He slinks past Nick, risking a glance u p through his lashes as he does. Nick lets the door close and Louis gets his first glimpse at the inside of Nick’s flat. The hallway is nothing special, a narrow space with three doors coming off of it.

“Want the tour?” Nick asks. Louis looks around, up at the ceiling then back at Nick. He nods with a smile. 

Nick pushes off the door and instead of giving him a tour crowds into Louis’ space. Louis‘ back hits the wall. 

“Bathroom,” Nick jerks his head to the door on the left of Louis’ shoulder. “Living room and kitchen,” He motions to the door behind him. “Bedroom.” He says finally, voice small.

Louis follows each direction with his eyes, keeping them innocently wide and nodding with each explanation. He swallows slowly, swipes the tip of his tongue over his lips and looks back Nick. “Right, got it.”

The look in Nick’s dark eyes is heavy and Louis has to look away to stop things moving too fast.  “Show me the living room then.”

Nick doesn’t move immediately, but when he does he turns and heads through the previously  pointed out entry way. Louis follows him in, ignoring his brain telling him that Harry has been here first. It’s not a competition.

Nick’s flat is tiny but only in comparison to the five bedroomed house that he and the boys live in. He can see a small kitchenette disappearing around the bend of the L shaped room and the sofa is centred around a large TV just off to the side of a wallpapered chimney breast, the only pop of colour in an otherwise very plain space .

Louis doesn’t sit down immediately and Nick just stands there too, hands stuffed into his pockets and watching him closely. Louis draws his eyes away from inspecting his surroundings, turns around and meets Nick’s gaze.

“I like the wallpaper.” He says, feeling a bit stupid as he points to the papered wall.

“Thanks,” Nick says. “I did it myself.”

Now it’s Louis turn to snort. “No you did not!”

“I did!” Nick exclaims, taking his hands out of his pockets and visibly relaxing, taking a weight off Louis’ shoulders too. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Nothin’, it’s just… it’s really good is all.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” Nick says, and Louis rolls his eyes. “And they don’t stop at wallpapering.”

“Is that so?”

Nick nods with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Yeah, I do a mean dining room chair upholstering.”

Louis barks out a laugh at that, the sound of it obnoxious in the charged air between them. He feels a bit embarrassed for it but it helps to sufficiently break the ice and after that it soon starts feeling like it’s just ‘Louis and Nick hanging out’, without the added pressure of this kind of sort of being their first sort of date.

“This is a lot of vinyl,” Louis says, stepping over to where Nick’s turntables and record collection proudly sit on display. He’s got probably close to three hundred vinyl records packed close together, if Louis had to guess. He runs his index finger over the tops, catching every ridge as he goes with a little tapping noise.

“Two hundred and eighty nine at last count,” Nick says, answering Louis’ question without knowing.

Louis smiles. He was close. “And do you need that many?”

“Shurrup, you sound like me mam!” Nick rolls his eyes. “I started my collection when I was thirteen. As you can see, I was very committed to my cause. The older ones were dads; loads are from car boots and markets, later on I started scouring eBay for them.”

“This one is still in its plastic wrapper, Nicholas!” Louis points out, tugging out a brand new unopened copy of Bad by Michael Jackson.

“That’s a classic.”

“So why haven’t you even opened it?”

“I’ve got two copies,” Nick says sheepishly, wriggling his body away when Louis goes to thump him.

“‘Classic’ or not, do you really need two copies?” Louis teases. “Was one a gift, or…?”

“No, the first one was from a car boot sale, all battered and dog-eared, then a couple of years ago I found this one brand new so…” Nick trails off, as if that explains it. Louis rolls his eyes again fondly. It feels like he’s doing that a lot.

“What’s your favourite one?”

“Can’t choose,” Nick says without hesitation. “That’s like asking a mother to choose her favourite child.”

“Mum’s always have a favourite; most of them are just too good to ever admit it.” Louis argues.

“You sound like someone that fancies themselves the favourite child.” Nick says with a smirk, still dodging the question.

Louis laughs. “Well yeah, I was the first child,  _ and _ the only son. Of course I’m the favourite.”

Nick shakes his head with an evergreen smile. “Fine…” Nick appears to really be thinking about it. Louis feels his breathing become quicker and the thump in his chest harder to control as he watches Nick closely. “I could probably narrow it down to my top ten,” Nick says eventually. “If you held a gun to my head.”

“Well I’ll bear that in mind,” Louis says, the space between them suddenly unbearable. Nick’s fingers wrap around Louis’ wrist, just like that night at the club.

Nick doesn’t wait to kiss him, he just goes for it. He draws Louis in by the wrists and then drops it, bringing both hands up to frame Louis’ face. Nick slips his fingers through the hair cut sharply around Louis’ ears and gently coaxes his attention up, pressing their lips together. Louis reaches out for Nick too on impulse, gripping his shirt. He’s not under any illusions that Nick likes him enough to risk toppling over the vinyl collection, so he prompts them towards the sofa.

Nick drops as soon as the backs of his legs hit the sofa and he pulls Louis down with him; it's undignified and all of his graces are gone out the window as he tumbles down on top of Nick. Nick, it seems, doesn't care though. He props one leg over the arm of the sofa and stations the other foot flat on the floor. Louis lays between Nick’s legs, propping himself up on one hand and shuffling his hips down into Nick’s, half to get traction and half to get comfortable.

Nick’s hands slip down over the widest part of Louis’ shoulders before meeting in the middle and sliding down his spine to come to a rest on the swell of his bum. The slight lift of his hips that Louis tries in vain to tamp down familiarises him with how Nick’s body feels against his own. Nick’s jeans are tight, tighter even that Louis’ own, and leave little to the imagination against his hip bone as they kiss.

They don’t spend _ all _ night on the sofa snogging like school boys. The tour of the flat continues into the kitchen sometime later; it’s as minimalistic and plain as one would expect, apart from some funky fridge magnets, a large glass bottle full of 1p and 2p coins and a glass ashtray on the windowsill decorated with weed leaves.

Nick goes for the magnet-adorned fridge and crouches down to peer in.

“So I’ve got beer, there’s wine and probably some JD left in’t cupboard, or just y’know – I mean I dunno what you’re fancyin’ but if you just fancy a tea or Coke or summat, that’s fine too.”

If Louis didn’t know better he’d say Nick was a little nervous.

“Beer’s fine,” He answers with a smile. Nick nods dutifully and twists the lid off a bottle with his bare hands without even flinching.

They reconvene on the sofa, sitting this time. Nick’s sofas aren’t as cushiony and low as the ones at the house, a fact Louis can remember Nick not being too happy about. Here, in Nick’s flat, the sofas are upright with lots of mismatched cushions. Nick sits in the corner angling his body towards Louis who perches initially then shuffles back. Nick tucks one foot under his body and hugs his knees, his informality instantly putting Louis more at ease.

It turns out that hanging out just the two of them is much more different than hanging out alongside the other five. Most of him had been excited for this evening, but a small portion of him, the cynical, jaded Louis had been sure that things would be horrifically awkward and this would be a minor blip that would never be spoken of or acknowledged again.

But Nick makes him feel comfortable and it’s easy as they drink and talk about their respective weeks. Nick asks a lot of questions and none of them are sarcastic or insulting, which makes Louis feel guilty for even considering in the first place. 

He learns more about Nick, which is what he wanted. Nick’s job, as it turns out, is a lot more than just selling CD’s to out of touch old fuddy-duddies - a term Niall had once coined during a back-and-forth disagreement with Harry that Louis will never forget.

“It was never the dream or anythin’, to be area manager of an HMV shop.”

“How did you end up there?” Louis asks.

Nick whistles softly, raising his eyes to the ceiling. As he does he slides his feet off the sofa and they slap the floor with a dull thud. He bounces his foot as he talks, slowly angling his knees towards Louis.

“I did sound engineering and business at uni; I took the HMV job just as a stop gap to tide me over while I finished off the degree and… well, it didn’t quite go to plan. I started off in sales and then moved up to management. It’s not where I wanted to be or what I’d planned, but. Pays the bills, I suppose. Getting the job I’d hoped for proved harder than expected.”

Louis indexes everything Nick just said, nodding slowly as he considers it. He can’t relate, is the simple truth, but he can understand and he can sympathise.

“Bet that all sounds foreign to you, Mr Big Shot.”

Louis laughs suddenly, sharply. “I almost gave it all up about a million times.” Louis knows already that he’s not going to get into the real reasons why tonight. “I was shit at school, never any good at ‘owt. The only thing I am good at is looking after kids, having four baby sisters helped. I did work experience at my old school and getting to go back and show ‘em I was actually makin’ something of my life, it was good. Cathartic.”

“A metaphorical two fingers up to anyone that doubted you.” Nick contributes.

“Exactly!” Louis smiles, nodding. “Maybe that’s petty, but...”

He trails off, suddenly hyper aware of Nick’s attention that is fully on him. He tries in vain to carry on, but all he can get out is breathy, embarrassed laughs.

“Don’t stare at me!” He rasps, swatting at Nick’s ever encroaching leg.

Nick grabs his hand, stilling his motion. He flips his hand over so they’re palm to palm, fingers interlaced. Louis’ heart rate slows right down, he looks at where their hands are joined and then back at Nick. Nick gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Sorry,” he says, ever so softly. “S’hard not to.”

He’d normally call out such a remark for being so undeniable cheesy, but something about Nick’s overwhelming sincerity knocks him for six and he forgets to. Nick’s normally always got a sarcastic comment to make, so this new Nick, the Nick that Louis isn’t brave enough to think might just be for him, is curiously captivating.

“So… we’ve come to the point in the evening where I risk burning down my flat to cook a dinner that will impress you enough to wanna see me again,” Nick says, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I have one specialty dish and one speciality dish only, so I hope you like it or it’ll be cheese and onion crisps sandwiches all round.”

Louis can’t help the charmed snort that he lets slip as Nick talks; the humble, self-deprecating grin on the corner of his mouth tugging at Louis’ heart strings.

“Please, I’ve got no room to judge  _ anyone’s _ cooking. I don’t know if you’ve noticed when you’ve been at ours, but I don’t do the cooking. Ever. I wouldn't subject anyone to the slop I create.”

Nick grins fondly. “I had noticed. But hey, that’s what Zayn an’ Harry are for, right?”

Louis nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! it’s like, we’ve got Ronaldo and Messi on our team, why would the boss leave those two on the bench in favour of fucking John Smith, the two-left-footed striker from Dipshit FC?”

Nick honks out a seal laugh, clapping his big silly hands together and Louis feels secretly smug at having made Nick laugh like this. “That’s class!” Nick wheezes. “But seriously, you sell yourself short.”

“I can assure you I don’t!”

“You ain’t tried my dish of the day yet; don’t be too liberal with the World’s Worst Chef title just yet.”

Louis follows Nick into the kitchen and leans against the counter, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he watches Nick preparing the food. He moves out of his way when needed, grinning as Nick pretends to be irritated. 

Finally, he sets his beer down and leans forward on his elbows, watching as Nick takes a knife to the packaging of some 99% pork and beef sausages. The mutual giggle they share as Nick holds up the packet of phallic food stuffs is cheek-tinting and immature, but sends a jolt through to his tummy.

He watches, almost killing himself with self-restraint, as Nick squeezes the sausage meat out of the skins and creates rustic, misshapen meatballs out of them. The frying pan hisses loudly once he tosses them in, and so Louis leans back, out of the spit zone.

“That was really hard for you to let pass by without comment, weren’t it?” Nick remarks, stepping away from the oven too and leaning against the opposite unit. He swipes up his beer and takes a long sip.

“Shut up, you were being _ intentionally _ suggestive wi’ ‘em!”

“C’mere?” Nick coaxes him forward, the request a no-brainer. Louis swallows his mouthful of beer and puts the glass bottle down with a  _ clink. _ He crosses the kitchen in two steps, into the space between Nick’s legs.

Nick’s eyes roam over his face, a simple act that is no more than three or four seconds but it feels like forever that he’s held in his gaze before Nick’s hand is around the nape of his neck and he’s bringing them back together for another kiss.

Nick tastes a lot like beer, a little like tobacco and curiously a bit minty too; something Louis didn't catch the first time. He pushes his hips against Nick’s body, pressing the man firmly against the countertop he’s leaning on. Louis rests his hands on Nick’s chest, his new favourite place, and lets the very tips of his fingers splay under the open lapels of Nick’s shirt that ignites his skin. If he held his touch there long enough he’d probably be able to feel Nick’s heartbeat through the material.

Nick’s kisses make him feel like a teenager again; confusingly nervy and inappropriately horny. He tilts his head and parts his lips to accommodate Nick’s kiss, vaguely aware of the meatballs cooking up a storm in the pan behind them. He’s sure he could make another innuendo there, if his head was clearer.

He grips either side of Nick’s shirt, one of the buttons digging into the side of his little finger with how fiercely he’s holding on. His hips gyrate in small thrusts uncontrollably as they kiss. To think that it’s been so long since he was last in a situation such as this, it feels remarkably easy. Louis doesn’t question his actions for a second. 

Nick pulls away breathlessly, brushing the edge of his thumb over Louis’ cheek before kissing him again, chaste this time. “Meatballs,” Nick murmurs, and Louis opens his eyes to see Nick’s open too, wandering over to the oven top where the pan is hissing and squeaking. The moment well and truly passed now, he exhales loudly with a chuckle and steps aside.

Nick pats the early bulge in his jeans as he passes by and Louis nearly  _ dies _ of embarrassment right there and then.

He picks up his beer and wanders out of the alcove to the living room. He peers out of the window to the street below. It’s quiet round here, and apart from the hum of traffic in the far off distance there isn't much else in the way of noise.

“Plannin’ your escape?” Nick’s breezy, enquiring tone comes filtering in from the kitchen. Louis smiles to himself and calls back his reassurances that he’s not.

Louis lets go of the curtain and wanders over to the bookcase in the corner next to the turntables. There’s a frameless collage of cut-out photos on one of the shelves; Louis can pick out Harry in a few, lots of pictures of Nick with someone older; his brother if Louis had to guess. Nick’s in varying states of drunkenness in all of the pictures he features in, and his hairdos over the years give Louis a giggle.

“This quiff is so big it’s got its own postcode!” He says, to Nick but not really to him.

“Eh?” Nick steps out of the kitchen. “Oh! Yeah, no one told 2002 Nick that he weren’t cool.”

Louis turns to him and smiles. “Dinner ready?”

“Five mins,” Nick says, and Louis smiles again at the cute abbreviation. “Pasta’s not even al dente yet, more… solid still.”

Louis nods. “Can’t rush perfection, eh?”

Nick smirks. “Somethin’ like ‘at, yeah.”

Louis takes another opportunity to leaf through the vinyl properly, pulling the odd one up to look at the cover. The collection is certainly eclectic and mixed. There’s Bob Dylan and Lady Gaga, NWA, Nas and Brand New and, of course, two Bad’s by Michael Jackson - and they’re just the artists Louis has heard of.

When he’s finished perusing the knick-knacks he makes his way back over to the kitchen to find the table set for their meal. He can’t help but grin when he spots it.

Nick’s lit a purple berry scented votive candle that’s either burned down  _ very _ quickly or has been lit before. Louis doesn't even care; he’s got a boy he really sort of likes a lot cooking what is a rather rustic but still legitimate candlelit dinner for him.

Their eyes meet sheepishly and Nick is trying to bite down a bashful smile as he turns away, returning with two plates. He sets them down at the small four seater table, not opposite each other but next to each other. He even pulls the seat out for Louis before sitting himself.

It’s horribly awkward again for just a second before they both smile, get their nervous, jerky laughter out and then they’re settled again. He tries to lighten the mood by telling Nick that despite all of his prior criticisms the dish looks really good. Nick tells him to wait until he’s tried it before complimenting the chef, but he needn’t’ve been so modest.

Nick looks pleased as punch that Louis likes it, and the litany of compliments are perhaps  _ a little _ over the top but making Nick smile is quickly becoming Louis’ new top priority. 

Louis watches the flame of the candle as it bounces about in the air, the ‘berry’ scent more of a burning plastic smell than any fruits of the forest Louis has ever smelt.

Suddenly Nick’s hand comes across the table and he places his hand over Louis’ unexpectedly, causing Louis to jump. He looks down at the joined extremities and then up at Nick. He looks a bit stricken, rabbit caught in headlights at Louis’ unmissable flinch, but to his credit he keeps his hand there, keeps up a confidence that may or may not be genuine.

“Everything all right?”

Louis smiles brightly, doing his very best job not to start trembling under Nick’s touch. “Yeah, just- that candle, not very berry-like is it?”

Nick laughs and removes his hand. It feels cold without it there. “I know!” He exclaims with an eye roll. “Smells like a tyre fire doesn’t it?”

They push their plates to the side and take another beer to the sofa. Nick sits closer this time, propping one leg up on the sofa as before but letting his knee fall outwards, close to Louis’ own knee.

They talk some more, interspersing big revelatory factoids with titbits and jokes that really aren’t funny enough to warrant the crinkly eyed laughing and the thigh slapping.

By the dregs of beer number two they really hit their stride. Nick’s graduated from one leg awkwardly positioned across the cushions to both legs outstretched across the entire width of the space, folded at the ankles while Louis sits tucked neatly into the free space, his hand resting on the firm, knobbly bone of Nick’s left shin. It’s been there for a good few minutes and the world’s not stopped turning, remarkably enough.

He’s not even sure what they’re laughing about; Nick’s got his head resting on the arm of the sofa and the angle should be horrendous but he looks lovely, eyes slightly droopy and hooded and smile as broad as ever.

Louis’ laughing, laughing a lot, and things are snowballing quite quickly. He can’t keep up with the jokes, wanting to remember everything so he can think about this evening ten more times this weekend and remember every word and every eruption of laughter.

Nick rolls his head from side to side as he laughs, reaching out for Louis’, grabbing at the inside of his elbow awkwardly because it’s the nearest body part to him.

“Come down ‘ere for a cuddle, Lou?” He asks, softly and dopily, though he’s not drank enough to be tipsy already.

Louis pauses for a moment before moving, focussing solely on the feel of Nick’s hand gently squeezing his arm, prompting him into action carefully. He nods; a flash of self-consciousness passing through him as he fits himself into the very small gap alongside Nick’s body. Louis’ body remains tense until they’re finally situated, one of his legs resting between Nick’s, his bottom arm tucked right into the corner of the sofa and his own bicep being used for a pillow. He’s not immediately sure what to do with the other hand but when he rests it on Nick’s chest tentatively he feels the last of Nick’s tension drop away.

“Are you surprised?” Nick asks. “To be here, with me.”

Louis considers his response. “Not now. But even a month or so ago, I’d have laughed at the thought.”

“How’d you mean?”

“I never thought you’d be interested. You were always…”

“Being a twat?” Nick supplies with a grimace. “I know. I’m… I don’t even have an excuse. I’m sorry.”

“S’alright,” Louis shrugs.

“I always liked you,” Nick confesses, and Louis has to duck his head down. “Probably why I was such an idiot. Not that that’s a valid reason.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yeah, it’s sorta surprising. But nice.”

“What d’you think Harry would say?” Nick asks.

Louis ponders it, noting the fact that Nick said what  _ would _ Harry say not what  _ will  _ Harry say. He supposes it’s wise to tread carefully at this newborn stage of their… Louis was going to call it a relationship, but that’s not right. Their… their thing. That will do for now.

“He’d probably be surprised. Probably thinks we hate each other.”

Nick nods. “I’m surprised you don’t hate me, after all the grief I’ve given y’over time.”

“I only hate you marginally less than I used to,” Louis teases, and Nick slaps his arm lazily. “Honestly though, I don’t hate you, not at all.”

Louis’ arm that he is propped up on is  _ completely _ numb by the time they come to a natural rest in the conversation and he lifts off of it with a creak and a grimace. Unsure of where to re-settle himself and with a dead arm and aching neck, he does what only Two Beers Louis would have the courage to do, he rests his head on Nick’s chest.

After the static rustle of the material so close to his ear soothes, he can hear the biological gurgle of what’s going on in Nick’s chest, followed soon by the soft and gentle rhythmic thud of his heart.

Nick lifts the arm that was dangling limply off the edge and wraps it securely around Louis shoulders, his other hand resting in the small of Louis’ back just before the curve of his bum.

After an extended stretch of comfortable silence, mixed up with a little bit of general chit chat, Louis sighs loudly and unexpectedly as he realises the night’s nearing a good natural conclusion.

“Borin’ you, am I?” Nick laughs softly, snorting from his nose.

“No,” Louis says. “Just, so warm here I don’t wanna go out into the cold again.”

For a moment he wonders if Nick might ask him not to leave; will ask him to stay and fuck the consequences, they’ll worry about them tomorrow. He's not sure if he wants that or not. Or rather, he knows he shouldn't want that but isn't sure if he’d be able to resist if Nick asked.

As it turns out, though, Nick doesn’t ask this time. Instead he agrees forlornly and wraps his arms tighter around Louis’ body, as if to amplify their current shared warmth just a little bit more in preparation for going outside into the icy, inky November evening.

“Wait here,” Nick disappears, to his bedroom by the sound of the doors clunking, and returns a moment later with a large black non-descript hoodie. It smells like Nick’s aftershave and cigarette smoke and distantly of fabric softener as Nick thrusts it into his hands. “Wear this; you’ll catch your death otherwise.”

Louis gratefully slips the hoodie on over his head; the hoodie basically drowns him. He briefly wonders if this will be a part of their story; obligatory hoodie stealing and wearing of said stolen hoodie for weeks on end without washing it or returning it because the smell is familiar. He wouldn’t mind if it was, honestly.

They share a smoke on the steps while they wait for Louis’ taxi that promised to only be ten minutes; Nick in one of his stupid fluffy cardigans with a leather jacket and a ridiculously long scarf over the top, and Louis in Nick’s hoodie with one arm wrapped around him, sharing body heat as well as the rollie.

It’s as eerily quiet around them now, at half past eleven, as it was at seven o’clock, so when the noise of an engine suddenly breaks through the serenity and approaches down the street, they don’t miss it.

Louis’ tummy drops a little and he pulls away from Nick’s shoulder, reaching up to push the hood out of his eyes, the sleeves falling down over his hands.

“Thank you,” Louis says, his words coming out a lot more shaky and raspy than he’d anticipated. “For cooking and for, for talking. For the company.”

“Thanks for not turnin’ me down,” Nick deflects the moment with some light humour. “I had a nice evenin’ Lou.”

“Me too,” Louis whispers, aware that the taxi has just pulled up. He lifts onto his tiptoes and lands a soft kiss on Nick’s lips. It’s quick and easy, just lips pressing together, peach fuzz scraping against smooth skin. “See you soon?”

“Text me when you get in?”

“I will,” Louis promises, stepping onto the first step. He jogs down to the pavement carefully, legs a bit stiff yet also wobbly, then turns for one last look. “Bye.”

“See ya, Lou.” Nick waves quickly, the pompoms on the end of his scarf dancing about with the movement before he shoves his hands back in his pockets. He stays on the step, leaning against the stonework to watch Louis go.

Louis greets the driver pleasantly and confirms his return address. He smiles to Nick briefly before the car pulls away from the kerb but he can’t, for some reason, look back as they zoom off.

The amount of lies, innocent as they may be, that he has to tell to a waiting Niall and Harry when he gets home is horrific, and he says a silent prayer of forgiveness to whoever is up there as he talks about the imaginary mishap Lottie had at college and the delicious melting middle chocolate dessert that he and Fizzy shared for pudding.

Despite the hours they’ve just spent together, he does indeed text Nick as soon as he slips off his t-shirt and clambers into bed. The end of a tumultuous week plus alcohol consumption and an evening of being social have worn him out, and his eyes burn behind the frames of his glasses as he talks to Nick well into the night.

One minute he’s sending Nick a reply, the next he wakes up with his thumb on the ‘G’ key and the reply he thought he’d sent still sitting in the text box, obscured by random consonants. With a quick check of the time stamp he can see more than an hour has passed, and he doesn’t even try to formulate a proper response, just lets his phone lock and fall by the wayside, sleep returning to him before he can think about it any further.

++

The weekend is quiet; he doesn’t leave the house apart from to shuffle down to the corner shop to buy ridiculously overpriced milk on Sunday afternoon. Nick doesn’t come by, though they’ve been texting almost continuously.

_ ‘Could do with another day in the weekend, sooo tireddd xx’ _

_ ‘Xmas hols soon surely, quit ur moaning xx’ _

_ ‘Couldn’t resist bringing that up could you…….’ _

_ ‘:) yea but not long and then 17 glorious days off xx’ _

Louis can play all affronted as much as he likes, deep down he secretly lives for Nick teasing him about his precious half terms; it’s something that had bonded them together at the start and the fact that he still does it makes Louis nostalgic – if you can be nostalgic over something that happened three months ago, that is.

“So?” Perrie approaches him in the playground on Monday lunchtime. Her eyes are wide and she’s staring at him expectantly.

Hesitatingly he looks over his shoulder before turning back to her. “What?”

“How did it go?”

“How did… what go?” He asks, palms warming up instinctively in the pockets of his school issued coat.

“Oh c’mon, Tomlinson, don’t play dumb!” Perrie chastises brusquely. “Your date Friday night!”

“What! How d’you- I didn’t tell you…”

“ _ ’Today’s Monday, my hairs gonna get wet.’ _ Seriously?  _ ‘Oh, I normally help with the food shopping on Friday’ _ , really smooth that, Lou. Somethin’ about spaghetti hoops, too?” Perrie has her arms folded and a bemused smirk on her face as the takes the piss out of him. 

He hadn’t realised she’d overheard his conversation. Didn’t realise she’d known what he was doing when he called her for her fashion advice.

“Oh shut up!”

Friday feels like a lifetime ago now, like now his life can be split into before their first date, and after their first date. His cheeks prickle with embarrassment that she overhead them, but she can do nothing for the overly fond and happy smile on her face so Louis figures he can let himself have this one.

“It did go well, yes,” He says, ignoring her subtle eyebrow wiggle. “He cooked me dinner, had a few beers, a chat and a cuddle, it was nice.”

“A cuddle!?” Perrie squeaks. “Is that code or-”

“No, it’s not!” Louis bats his hand at her, willing her to shut up. Thankfully at that moment little Magdalena Szabo approaches him with a problem and he has an excuse to scamper away from his so-called friend.

++

The final week of November consists mainly of Christmas concert rehearsals by day and curling up on the sofa listening to bitter rain beat the window by night. Tuesday is payday and Niall returns home with good biscuits, not Aldi value ones. Louis smiles fondly when he finds them in the cupboard .

On the last day of November, Harry returns home with Nick in tow and it’s the first time Louis’ seen Nick physically for six days. In that time they’ve been in regular texting contact but no mention of meeting again had come up and Nick hadn’t offered any sort of clue as to what he was thinking about their situation.

So Louis thinks his fear is justified when he hears Harry arrive home, his chattering indicating he is not alone. When Harry bursts through the door in his long coat and Nick’s patterned scarf, Louis just about bolts. Nick is behind, a beanie pulled down low and a scowl on his face.

Louis’ chest immediately tightens; he’s relieved to see Nick but Nick doesn’t look happy, in fact he doesn’t  _ look  _ at all. Louis had wondered how their first outing around their friends would be, how the dynamic would change after their evening together, but he’d imagined furtive glances and cheeky hand holding over the back of the sofa, not  _ this. _

“It’s, so,  _ fucking, _ cold!” Harry shouts angrily as he throws himself down on the sofa, hugging himself tightly.

Nick follows suit, sitting himself down at the dining table and bringing one foot up to rest on the seat. He always does it and it doesn’t look comfortable and his socks are orange, Louis notes. His brain is going into overdrive compensating for the unease with noticing stupid things like that.

Nick gives only very fleeting eye contact and then looks over at the back wall, chin cupped in his hand uninterestedly.

“Lovers tiff?” Liam quips, and Louis’ head immediately jerks up, life flashing before his eyes before he realises that, of course, Liam is referring to Nick and Harry. Nick doesn’t seem to be as affected as Louis, if the vague and disinterested look on his face is anything to go by.

Harry fields the question with a laugh, but Louis doesn’t catch the reasoning that he offers up. He has to tear his eyes away from Nick’s stony profile because if he doesn’t he’ll get caught out. The boys continue on as they were before Nick and Harry arrived home, as if nothing is amiss. Louis envies them for their blissful ignorance.

It takes Louis a good half an hour or so to fully calm down and get comfortable again. Nick mellows out after a while and the mood softens a bit but there is no real interaction past the odd shared joke between the group that they both laugh at.

“You okay?” Louis grips Nick’s wrist, stopping him from venturing any further. They’re both in the hallway, an opportune moment to talk upon them, because Louis had followed Nick out the room when the group had split to the toilet or to the kitchen or to the garden for a smoke.

“Yeah yeah, just… shit day, y’know?” Nick’s excuse is flimsy, and he doesn’t have any warmth or enthusiasm behind his eyes. Louis shrinks back down, nodding. Nick has reduced him to a quivering, nauseous wreck, about two inches tall to boot.

He lets go of Nick’s arm, suddenly feeling cold. “Okay. Sorry.”

He sleeps in Nick’s hoodie that night, the closest thing he’s going to get to the stupid idiot for now, apparently.

 

  
  
  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you're enjoying it so far! I do hope you are! x


	4. Chapter 4

 

Louis’ melancholy extends into December, the supposed happiest month of the year. Niall has bought the five of them advent calendars which are stacked up on top of the fridge. He claims the Galaxy caramel one for himself and scrawls his name across the top of it, but not even a bite size chocolate every morning can help him raise a smile.

Christmas spirit has well and truly arrived in Reception class though, and there’s an almost delirium about the place with how excited the kids are. Overnight the Christmas tree in the main reception goes up and there’s tinsel hanging from every available surface.

The kids’ task for the morning is decorating and cutting out snowflakes with their safety scissors. They’ve got coloured pompoms, sequins, glitter, coloured cellophane, pens, pencils and glue to use, and Louis has the promise of a lunch break cut short to tidy it all up.

By 12:30, though, the classroom is nicely decorated by varying designs of snowflakes and there is no evidence to show there was ever a mess. The bell for the end of lunch is imminent when he feels his phone vibrate against his thigh.

_‘Nothing better than a 14hr kip and a sausage and egg butty x’_

Louis feels intermingled relief and irritation prickle up and down his arms as he reads and re-reads and then reacts to Nick’s message. He hates that he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the smile just from reading those 4 little letters, N-I-C-K.

He types out his response and hits send before he can talk himself out of it.

_Did the stroppy toddler just need his nap time?_

_Fully deserved that. Im sorry for yesterday I was a big pouting knobhead. Are u ok? xx_

He rolls his eyes but can’t reply to Nick until after the end of the school day. It’s an alien feeling to him, but it sort of feels like he’s regaining a bit of control of the situation by calling out Nick for his strop and making him wait for an answer. The confident side of Louis ponders whether Nick would find himself getting agitated and concerned by the length of time between Louis’ replies, but the other part of him can’t help but default to the ‘he wouldn’t care’ train of thought.

Despite his turmoil he does want to see Nick tonight, of course he does. He convinces himself that a last minute request will seem fun and spontaneous and very live-for-the-minute. Because Louis is all of those things. Or at least, he _could_ be.

Louis plans a million different ways to spontaneously ask Nick out, umming and ahhing right up until he gets home. However, when he walks through the door, any indecision he might have had dissipates immediately when he passes Harry under the arch of the front door, full of hurried and florid excitement.

“Woah, slow down, where you off to?”

“Hi Lou, bye Lou!” Harry cries cheerily. “Work’s Christmas do, completely forgot about it! Going to get ready at Nick’s!”

Something akin to jealousy pangs sharply in Louis’ chest and he tries not to let his emotions show through in his expression. “Oh... o-okay.”

“Bye love!” Harry’s already jogging down the garden path, letting the rickety old gate swing horribly on its precarious hinges.

And just like that he’s gone. Of course Harry isn’t bothered; he doesn’t know he just scuppered Louis’ plans for the evening, by proxy. He hadn’t even had the balls to make the plans, so he’s got no room to mope. Even if he had, it’s not like it’s a given that Nick would’ve dropped everything for him.

Louis almost does a lot of things that evening. He almost bursts into pathetic tears, he almost calls time on the whole thing with Nick, and he almost confesses all to Niall, who just so happens to look at him the right way when he asks him if he’s sure he’s okay.

In the end though, he doesn’t do any of those things. He just sits in with Niall drinking beers and eating Doritos out of the bag, foregoing eating tea all together. The steady intake of alcohol and crisps keeps his hunger at bay sufficiently.

Harry comes home at half past one in a paper crown out of a cracker, a necklace of party popper strings and a bottle of red wine poorly concealed in his coat pocket. It bumps against the wall as he staggers in, calling out all of their names drunkenly.

Louis watches the back of the living room door apprehensively, waiting to see if Harry’s alone or not.

Harry comes in brandishing the wine bottle and something tucked under his arm.

“Here he is!” Niall cheers, giving Harry a thumbs up. “Good night, mate?”

Harry blinks several times to focus on Niall, smiling broadly. “Nialler!” He exclaims. “Lou! So lovely it is to see you home! I have returned from the public house and I have had, _many_ ales!”

“That you have, son.” Niall laughs, batting a hand at Harry fondly.

Louis’ instinct to protect Harry and make sure he’s okay is strong, as always. “Are you all right? D’you want a cuppa? What’ve you got there?”

Harry starts to giggle and ignores the first two questions. “Me Secret Santa pressie!” He plucks what Louis can now see if a wall calendar out from under his arm and holds it up proudly. “Sexy firemen, Lou!”

“Wow, very nice!” Louis replies with a falsely bright smile. “Lucky you!”

“Lucky _us,_ more like!” He exclaims. “Gonna hang it in the kitchen!”

“Not until January first. It’s bad luck otherwise!” Louis grabs Harry by the wrist and stops him en route to the kitchen.

“Is it really?” Niall quips.

Louis ignores Niall and focusses on Harry who is now attempting to pour red wine into a glass on the coffee table.

“Nick got a mini kama sutra guide!” Harry announces suddenly, his arm jerking and a splash of red wine dropping onto the surface. Louis’ stomach immediately drops, a cold chill rushing through his veins. “What use is that to him?! Obviously whoever had him didn’t realise he’s gay!”

“Aw don’t pout, Haz, I bet some of them can be modified for two blokes.” Niall says, and Harry snorts childishly. Harry moans and groans and tells Niall, in a roundabout way, to shut up, and Louis’ awkward stilted laugh sounds so fake to his ears it’s a wonder nobody else picks up on it.

“Did uh, did anyone help you get home? Where was Nick?” Louis hears himself asking, trying to be as vague and nonchalant but in his chest his heart hammers so hard it hurts.

“I… yeah, no I didn’t see him much.” Harry answers, though he sounds unsure.

“How did you get home, did someone order you a taxi?” Louis asks, and Harry just shrugs, looking a bit unsure. He bites his lip and for a second he looks like he’s going to throw up.

“Oh, look!” Harry suddenly exclaims, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He shows Harry a picture of Nick in a car, presumably from just a few minutes or so, in a black and red spotty shirt – presumably his version of festive cheer – and a beer in hand, posing ridiculously and obviously very drunk.

“So you did see him?” Louis presses, pushing Harry’s phone out of his face. Harry and Niall both give him a look as if to say ‘why do you care so much’ and he has to sit back, remember himself.

“Okay doesn’t matter,” He nods, irritated by Harry’s non-answer. “You’re home safe, that’s all that matters.”

Yes, Harry is fine now but when he’d been falling down drunk on Halloween, Nick had been very blasé about it, encouraging Louis to take a step back and let Harry deal with the consequences himself.

“Shall I phone him?” Harry asks, but Louis can’t see any benefit to that plan at all.

“No,” He shakes his head firmly. “Leave him be.”

“Maybe he met someone to help him with his new book!” Niall adds, helpfully.

++

Saturday is a self-inflicted nightmare because for some reason that morning Louis decided he would _not_ text Nick first, under _any_ circumstances. He’s driven himself crazy by early afternoon.

His thumb hovers over Nick’s thread for so long, but for once his willpower wins over his poor judgement and he finds his way to Perrie instead.

“Louis Tomlinson, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She answers on the third ring, putting on that ridiculous fake-posh accent of hers.

“Hi Pez, long shot but are you busy love?”

“I’m away to town later, pet, but I’ve got time now?” Perrie says. “What’s up?”

Louis sighs. “Can we meet up? Costa or summat?”

“Sure babes, gimme half an hour. Meet you outside, yeah?”

He pulls on his beanie and swaps his three day old trackies for dark blue skinnies. With Niall’s stripy pocket t-shirt on and Nick’s hoodie, he feels inconspicuous and like he has a bit of respite from being himself for a while.

“That hoodie is massive,” Perrie says to him by way of a greeting when they meet up outside Costa in town. “It’s not yours. Who’s it belong to? Oooh, is it Nick’s?”

Louis peers down at the black garment, the smell of his… of Nick fading with how much he’s been wearing it himself. “Yeah, guilty.”

“Aw,” Perrie tilts her head to the side and clutches at her chest genuinely. “How sweet. C’mon, let’s go in, am freezing my balls off!”

Louis snorts and shakes his head as he follows Perrie in, reaching forward to hold the door open for her. After a torturous ten minutes in the queue they take a small table in the corner, a honeycomb latte for himself and salted caramel cappuccino for Perrie.

“You off out later then?”

“Yeah, just into town with the girls. To the China buffet and then the wine bar.”

“Sounds fun,” He smiles, and her eyes go wide, exclaiming that he should come with them. “No, that’s all right, you girls have fun.”

She nods, smiling at him over the rim of her mug. “So what’s up babe? You don’t look happy.”

He sighs, a self-conscious smile tugging on the corner of his mouth as he tries to choose the least lame sounding version of events.

“Lou?” Perrie prompts softly.

“I think… I dunno, I think I’ve messed it up. Misread the situation a bit.”

“Nick?” She asks, and he nods morosely. “Oh love. What’s going on?”

He’s not even sure what he’s saying as he says it, realising now that hearing these things out loud for the first time gives him an uncomfortable knot in his tummy. He picks at the skin around his thumb as he mumbles his way through his sob story.

Hearing it all laid out like that is a bit damning really and the talk hasn't served as the therapy session he was hoping it would.

“I just… God, that sounds pathetic doesn't it. I’m hearing it now, and… I got too invested too quickly, didn’t I? Now he’s tryin’ to let me down gently by widening the gap. This is what this is, isn't it?”

Perrie looks at him, her bottom lip pulled in between her teeth and her elbows propped up on the table top. “And nothin’ happened in that week between seeing him?”

“No!” Louis sighs desperately. “I didn't - as far as I know - even do anything. It can’t have been being too clingy ‘cause I didn't even see him! I… fucked if I know, honestly. This is why - this is _why_ I don’t get involved. I’m too much of a ‘eadcase for all this!”

“Lou, you’re being dramatic.” Perrie tells him, setting down her mug so she can reach over and smack his shoulder playfully. “Why aren’t you seeing each other tonight? If you missed each other again yesterday.”

Louis rolls his eyes at the memory of Harry dashing off to the Christmas do, not a single iota of realisation what was going on right under his nose, of course. He remembers Harry coming in drunk and then horrible scenes that had played out in Louis’ head when Harry spoke so freely and so casually about Nick.

“He’s not mentioned wanting to do anything. If I text him- I can’t, can I?”

“And why the hell not?”

“Don’t wanna seem desperate do I?”

“What if he’s sat at home thinkin’ the same thing? If both of yous are too stubborn to text first you’ll never get anywhere!”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts!” Perrie interrupts. “You can text him; it’s not against the law. It doesn’t even have to be anything, just a ‘hi how are you’.”

Louis stares at her desperately, _wishing_ he hadn’t bothered going to her for advice now, because she’s bloody right. He hates that.

He puts the wretched device down on the table top and stares at it closely, scrutinising everything about it, from the crack in the top left of the screen to the dent in the bottom next to the charger port.

The stupid thing lighting up with a shrill _buzz_ of vibration of its own accord whilst he’s staring at it is enough to send him five feet in the air.

“Oooh, spooky!” Perrie gasps, chortling as Louis pales and looks up at her in bewilderment.

“What do I do?!” He exclaims, flinging the thing across the table. Luckily Perrie catches it because he hadn't really thought that one through.

“Read it you complete idiot!” She says, glimpsing at the snippet showing on his home screen notification bar. “It’s good, he’s being nice, aw! Read it you lemon!”

_‘Hi love, Xmas party last night, v v last minute and got horribly drunk. Feeling it now :((( any room in your schedule for a pathetic old man who can’t handle his ale? Miss you btw xxx’_

Perrie is grinning from ear to ear when he looks up. “See! I told you so, didn’t I? Auntie Perrie is right again!”

“Shut up,” He mumbles with a wry smile as he looks down again at Nick’s message. The ‘miss you’ tacked on the end like it’s nothing, feels so much like Nick it’s almost as if he’s right here with them. Nick texts like a teenager; it’s so irritating but Louis loves it. He looks up at Perrie, aware that he’s turned to literal mush. “What do I do? Do I go?”

“Yes you _knob,_ of course you do!” She exclaims, a bit lively. “Have a lovely evening with your man, you deserve it!”

He doesn’t dare try and correct her when she calls Nick his man, partly because he doesn’t want to. They finish their drinks and then Perrie even gives him a lift home. He waves her off from the kerb and then jogs back inside; it’s considerably colder than when he’d left the house.

“Where’ve you been?” Zayn asks with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. “Hot date?”

“With Perrie? Nope.”

Zayn smirks and his eyes light up. “Mmm, she’s not _quite_ your type, is she bud? Mine, on the other hand-”

“Stop it, shut up; you’re not defiling any more beautiful, innocent colleagues of mine!”

There had been a moment with a work experience colleague of Louis’ four years ago at his twenty first birthday party where Zayn had become involved and needless to say it didn't end well.

“All right, all right I get the message!” Zayn shouts, holding up his hands. “Loud and clear!”

Louis disappears to shower and re-read Nick’s texts again; several more having been exchanged since the initial one came through in Costa. He sits on the edge of his bed with just a towel around his waist, droplets rolling off the tendrils of his hair onto his shoulders and down his spine. He hadn’t put the light on earlier but when he looks up from his phone it has grown pitch black around him. The light from the screen is suddenly very, very blinding and Louis decides to swap his contacts for glasses for the evening. With the long distance world around  him clear and sharp now, he drops the towel, draws the curtains and flicks on the light, in that order. The feeling of a ridiculous amount of contentment and confidence sits weirdly in his chest because he’s not used to it.

He peruses his wardrobe but ends up plumping for an all-black ensemble; his collarless black shirt with a thin knitted jumper over the top and skinnies. He sends a snap to Perrie, captioning it ‘too funeral-y?’ but she responds immediately with the fireball emoji and the heart eyes emoji, so he takes that to mean no, _not_ too funeral-y.

“Where are you going?” Harry asks, looking him narrowly. Louis hates lying to him and it doesn’t feel as if he’s going to buy another meal out with his mum and sisters.

“Going out with someone,” He says without thinking, vague as hell but with all the right connotations for Harry to jump to the wrong – although actually _right_ \- conclusion.

“A date?” Harry yelps, attracting the attention of nearby Niall and Liam. Liam wanders over, a mildly interested look on his face and Niall’s head snaps up, looking impressed. “Louis Tomlinson, you dark horse! Details please!”

He looks at Harry briefly, the cogs working in his mind. What is he supposed to say; he’s tall, funny and also your boss and friend?

“No, I’m not- I don’t wanna jinx it. It’s only one date, if it works out well maybe I’ll tell you.”

Harry looks confused and a bit hurt that Louis would keep this from him. Louis would love to be gossiping about this with Harry, getting his advice and his opinion on the man he’s seeing, but that can’t happen for now and it’s rubbish.

“Okay…” Harry says slowly. “That’s fair. Just… be safe, yeah?”

“Haz-”

“I know, just… you’re always lookin’ out for me, let me look out for you too. It’s been years since you’ve been on a date, I’m rusty! I don’t know how to be!”

Louis rolls his eyes, feeling a bit better about the whole thing. He’s not really lying now; he’s just withholding certain bits of the truth. “Just be a mate. Tell me you’re happy for me or somethin’.”

“I am,” Harry says earnestly. “Very happy for you Lou.”

Harry hugs him. It’s unexpected but of course most welcome. It immediately takes Louis back to their school days, sensitive but ultimately brave Harry finding his way in the world and seeking out Louis for reassurance at every turn.

“Love you lots, Lou.”

“Love you too, you big lug.”

“God, why don’t you two saps just date each other?” Zayn mutters as he bursts into the kitchen. “Lou, stop cheatin’ on your new boyfriend with you hypothetical husband!”

++

He’s getting the bus to Nick’s because payday is too far away to be affording taxi fares and his bus pass is pre-loaded for work anyway, so he might as well make good use of it. He’s a fraction less apprehensive than last time, too, and makes it through the journey alive.

He pulls his jacket tighter around his body as the rickety old bus chugs its way down the road, the fleece lining and collar doing little to keep the draft that howls through the gaps in the door out. Even the cold radiating off the glass window is making his cheek ache.

The oppressive weather conditions don’t allow Louis the chance to falter as he dashes from the bus stop up the road, across and down to Nick’s flat. He doesn’t pause before buzzing to be let in, the rain just starting to strengthen from a whimpering drizzle to a heavy downpour.

“Hi love,” Nick says through the intercom, buzzing Louis up. The light in the hallway outside Nick’s door is still flickering, and the door to the other flat has a themed doormat and a Christmas wreath on the door. Nick’s door stands plain and proud.

He knocks and Nick answers and he’s inside as out of his jacket in seconds. It’s always warm at Nick’s place, the advantage of being able to freely put the heating on without worrying about the gas bill, Louis supposes.

Nick leads him straight to the sofa. He looks pale and considerably worse for wear after his heavy night. The sofa is still warm, indicating a recent slumber. Nick settles back down on the sofa and he prompts Louis closer when he perches down next to him.

He has to smirk when Nick undoes the top button on his jeans. “Oh not like _that!_ It’s for comfort.”

“You could’ve put trackies on or summat,” Louis points out. “Didn’t have t’dress up on my behalf.”

“Yeah, and look like a sack o’ spuds next to you, I don’t think so.”

Louis just blushes, humbled but embarrassed by the compliment. The way they are together, Nick basically spread-eagled and Louis tucked into the space along his body, is reminiscent of the last time. It seems like this might be _a thing_ that they do.

With his head propped up on the arm of the sofa, Nick turns his head in Louis’ direction and looks up at him. “I got very, _very_ drunk last night.”

“I know, Harry showed me.” Louis says bemusedly.

“He showed- oh God, is there photographic evidence now? Great!” Nick frowns deeply, and Louis has to smile. “Please tell me he didn’t film anything!”

“No, not that I saw,” Louis reassures Nick.

“Some first impression I’m making, eh?” Nick sighs with an eye roll.

“I think we’re past first impressions, Nick.” Louis says.

They both look at each other for a moment; Louis bites the inside of his cheek hard between his teeth to try and stop the nervous giggle. He thinks he hears Nick say ‘come here’ but it’s so soft he might be wrong. Nick takes his hand and holds it tight, linking their fingers together and pressing his fingertips into Louis’ knuckles.

It’s understated and innocent and for a long time it’s all Louis needs. He continues to tease Nick about his impromptu festive outing.

“Do you remember getting a kama sutra guide as your Secret Santa pressie?”

Nick’s face pales and then he laughs. “Oh my God, no I’d forgotten about that until now!”

“It seemed to amuse Harry greatly.”

“I’m sure it did!” Nick muses. “God, how awkward! What am I supposed to do with- God, what if it’s Maureen the cleaner? She… she’s the only one who might not know I’m gay! God, what if she’s tryin’ to hint, what if she asks if I’ve _used_ it?!”

Louis hiccups with laughter as Nick becomes more and more distraught.

“Here, stop worryin’,” He reaches down and slips his hand around the back of Nick’s head, slipping his fingers into the soft, unstyled strands of his hair, hair that has never looked longer nor better. He leans in, using the back of Nick’s pretty old mug for leverage, and kisses him softly. The inside of Nick’s mouth is warm from the tea that has been forgotten about on the coffee table.

He shifts in the confined space as they kiss, never breaking apart even as he clambers onto his front and moves into the gap between Nick’s knees, their bodies pressed tightly together.

“Mmffhh, Lou,” Nick whines against his lips, and it’s the first indication in all the time they’ve been doing this that he wants something more, that ‘more’ is something they could do together.

Louis knows Nick is getting fuller in his boxers because he can feel it against his hip. Nick’s hands slip under the thin material of Louis’ jumper and they’re firm and steady on his hips. He pushes his hands against the skin, kneading the ample flesh in his hands and dragging his fingertips across the skin.

“You okay?” Louis asks, and he puts space between them, putting all his weight on the support of just one arm and bringing the other up to rest on Nick’s shoulder.

“Yeah love,” Nick replies, a happy little smile playing on his kiss-pink lips. “Are you?” Louis’ heart is as full as his… well. He nods. “Good. Come back ‘n’ cuddle?”

Louis lowers himself off his arm so all of his weight is pressed against Nick. He tucks his arm around Nick and presses his fingers under the sides of his body; it’s so warm and cosy under him he could really fall asleep. Nick’s chest rattles a bit as he breathes in, but the steady rhythm and the slow rise and fall of his head on Nick’s chest is therapeutic and relaxing.

They stay there for about twenty minutes or so, occasionally passing comment between the two of them, but mostly remaining in silence and just enjoying each other’s company.

Eventually, Louis shifts and looks up at Nick’s sheepish grin. “Pass us me tea, love?”

Louis rolls off him and leans forward to reach Nick’s now cold tea. Louis’d finished his ages ago, enjoying his tea the way it should be enjoyed – hot.

“Shall we have a look at it?” Nick asks, quite boldly. “The book. Give ourselves a bit of a laugh?”

“Or a fright…” Louis remarks, feeling his tummy give an apprehensive roll as Nick stretches himself almost to tipping off the sofa to reach his rucksack.

“Think it’s in here. Yeah, here it is.” Nick pulls out the hardback, glossy covered book and passes it immediately to Louis. “There y’go.”

“Why me?” Louis exclaims, taking it and braving a look at the cover. Okay, innocent so far, there is no porn on the cover, just loopy pink font and some nondescript illustrations.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?” Nick asks him, suddenly very serious and genuine; like he’s afraid he might offend Louis.

He smiles and shakes his head. “No love, I haven’t.”

“So you’re not even just a bit bi?”

“No, Nick, not even a little bit.” He smiles.

“Good,” Nick nods, satisfied. “Nor me. Obviously.”

Louis’ still holding the book, his palms feeling a little sweaty against the cover and he has to tear his eyes away from Nick before the tension between them suffocates him. “Obviously.”

Nick smiles weakly, the next thing he says coming out almost as a whisper. “I think it’s worth noting that the real, _original_ kama sutra had no pictures in it.”

“I don’t think they’re going for one hundred percent authenticity here, Nick.” Louis snorts, and the tension is broken. Bravely he lifts the front cover open and they begin to flick through the glossy, colourful pages.

“Ah no, stop! Abort, abort! This was a horrible idea! What the hell is _that?_ Where’s the- urgh where’s his other leg?!” Nick howls, stabbing at an illustration with his index finger.

“Oh my god, what is- this one looks like he’s tryin’ to chew off her arm!” He wails, his face an absolute picture of innocence shattering and horror settling in.

“My poor gay eyes weren’t meant to see things like this! Thanks fucking Maureen!”

“You don’t even know it was her!”

“I do! I just know it. Oh _Jesus,_ look here! He’s doing a handstand mid-coitus! Who’s stacked enough to pull _that_ off?!”

“Who even says ‘stacked’ anymore, Nicholas?” Louis cries, aghast.

They carry on perusing the pages, Nick’s wailing becoming more and more dramatic with each page turn. He throws his hand down over the pictures, declaring them disgusting.

“Aw no, this one’s nice! It’s like a horizontal cuddle!” Louis points to the illustration of the female clinging to the male like a koala, arms around his neck and legs around his middle. She looks like she’s hanging on for dear life.

Nick looks at it and makes a face. He turns the page and he makes a noise, almost like he’s pleasantly surprised.

“This one we- you could actually make work,” Nick says, and Louis unfortunately isn't drunk or distracted enough to miss the correction. “Like, apart from the legs akimbo it’s… do-able.”

He’s trailing off and Louis’ mind is clouding, he can hardly focus on the image Nick’s referring to; pretty much bog standard on-your-back sex but the bottom has their legs up in the air in a V shape being held open by the top.

He looks away, round at Nick, and Nick’s hand comes up to touch his cheek, the kiss that he presses to his lips urgent and reeking of importance.

The firm direction of Nick’s other hand guides Louis up onto his knees and Nick shuffles back into the sofa as Louis throws one leg over his and settles into his lap. Louis finally wakes up and becomes aware of his own hands again. He firmly directs Nick’s attention up and presses their lips back together. Both of Nick’s hands come to rest in the small of Louis’ back; his hands are large and constant and burn through the thin material of Louis’ t-shirt.

Nick pulls away from the kiss a few times, like he is going to say something, but several times their eyes meet and it’s desperate and wide but neither of them manages anything better than vague, scratchy breathing noises before going back for more. It’s certainly the most they’ve shared together and they’re both filling up in their respective jeans, Louis can feel it.

Nick moves them again; shifting forward off the sofa with Louis still nestled in his lap. He lays Louis down, ghosting a hand over the fastening of his trousers.

Nick asks for permission with his gaze, his teeth sunken down into his bottom lip. Holy fuck, Louis is going to die.

He nods hurriedly and Nick dutifully undoes the button and drags the material down over Louis’ hips and down to mid-thigh. Nick’s hand slides beneath the waistband of Louis’ boxers, his hand wrapping around Louis already fattening cock deftly.

It feels like less than a minute. It probably _was_ less than a minute. Nick tosses him off steadily, building up slowly in a contrast to how he feels inside. He bucks his hips up uncontrollably against the steady presence of Nick’s thigh.

“I, uh- oh fuck,” his attempts become an embarrassing throaty, low pitched whine as the feeling sweeps him up, expected but somehow it still takes Louis by surprise.

“That’s it, c’mon babe,” Nick coaxes him the last step towards the edge and with that Louis starts to spurt into Nick’s fist and over his own belly, seeing white light and stars behind his closed eyes.

Breathless as he comes down, Nick releases his loose grip and Louis drags his eyes open, though he can’t look directly at Nick at first, like he is the sun itself.

Nick knows what he looks like when he reaches the very top and tips over the edge. He’s _heard_ him when he _comes_. Louis’ cheeks burn with embarrassment, but then afterwards Nick is so gentle with him that it makes him completely forget why he was embarrassed in the first place.

He drags his boxers back up and Nick drops into the seat next to him. Louis falters, realising he’s one-nil up on orgasms now. “Should I-”

Nick just shakes his head softly. “No love,” He whispers. “Not now.”

Louis stays half-dressed and Nick drapes the blanket back over them. As they sit slumped together in the middle of the sofa, heart rates returning to normal, Nick runs his fingers through Louis’ hair. The motion makes Louis shiver, a contented and happy shiver.

“All right, love?” Nick asks softly, barely audibly in fact. Louis nods and pushes himself closer to Nick, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly against the material of his t-shirt. “Good.” Nick hums contentedly.

++

The next time Louis sees Nick is Tuesday; it’s been one hell of a day and he’s ready for the weekend already. It’s raining out and three out of five of them are sitting around the front room. Louis’ instinct is to go straight to Nick, but he keeps himself firmly seated and pressed up against Liam’s side, murmuring no more than a brief hello when he arrives with Harry.

“Nice time Friday?” Niall quips, referencing Nick and Harry’s drunken Friday evening. It feels like a lifetime ago now.

Harry blushes as he pouts, and Nick just laughs easily. “Sorry lads, I’m a shit influence I know!”

“Grim, you’ve gotta keep this one in better control!” Liam adds. Louis slumps as his support system in Liam is shifted when the other man moves. “He was _sick_ on the _floor_ in the bathroom! Next to the toilet, not _in_ it, no!”

Oh yes, the part Louis had been blocking from his memories. He was glad to have left _that_ part of Harry’s pastoral care to Liam.

Harry thumps Liam to shut him up and Nick’s eyes flash only very briefly over to Louis before looking back at Harry. “Ah c’mon, Harry, that’s no good mate.”

“And he wouldn’t shut up about your bloody kama sutra book, gave me visuals I _really_ didn’t need!”

Louis rolls his eyes, memories of his and Nick’s, ahem, reading session tinging his memories pink.  “Good old Maureen,” He murmurs, and Nick’s attention snaps back to him immediately. Louis only realises once he’s said it that he’s not supposed to know who Maureen is, or the suspected origins of Nick’s Secret Santa gift.

Luckily no one else cares enough to notice, but Harry’s smile falters a bit, his eyebrow quirks and Louis’ heart stops for a second but he doesn’t question it.

“That who you think it was, Grim?” Is what Harry does say. Louis watches them closely. Nick actually maintains a much cooler exterior than Louis would have, and fields Harry’s question easily.

After that, Liam excuses himself and Niall and Harry retreat to the kitchen to start making the tea. That just leaves him and Nick in the living room. Nick’s sitting on the corner of the sofa looking decidedly uncomfortable but he doesn’t stretch out even though the rest of the sofa is now empty.

“You okay?” He asks quietly. Louis just nods. Realistically he knows his bad mood isn’t the fault of Nick, but it helps to be moody. Makes him feel justified. “Lou, I’m sorry okay?”

That makes Louis feel like shit because Nick has nothing to apologise for. He’s done nothing and nothing’s happened. He deflates a bit, his bravado diminishing.

“S’okay,” He mumbles. “Just tired. Shit day.”

Nick smirks with glee, but it’s warm. “Not long and you’ve another holiday, surely?”

Louis rolls his eyes but grins too. “Shurrup,” He mutters under his breath. Nick pushes up off the sofa, approaches him quickly. Louis’ skin immediately tingles under his clothes at the prospect. Nick leans in, palm pressed firmly into the arm of the sofa, and places a quick kiss on Louis’ lips.

He’s gone in a heartbeat, of course, lest they get discovered. Not a moment later, as Nick is sauntering out of the living room, Liam returns, then Zayn bursts in the front door and completely takes over, and that’s Louis’ evening.

++

“It’s curving over at the top, it’s wonky!” Harry shouts as he stands back to inspect the Christmas tree that is currently half-done in the middle of the living room.

“That’s what she said!” Niall laughs at his ridiculous, antiquated joke. “Or, what _he_ said, of course.”

Harry rolls his eyes and begins trying to twist the top section of their plastic tree to straighten it out. Louis just sucks down another sip of his beer, feeling very warm and fuzzy two and a half beverages in, letting Christmas spirit finally take over him and sink into his pores.

He’s so glad to finally have Friday here; he’s been working towards it all week. Nick’s here again, and Louis can look but he can’t touch. He’s becoming used to that now, though, and he takes it all in his stride.

Nick offers up really unhelpful guidance on tree decorating, and Louis can’t hold back the helpless giggling and the snorting that is erupting from his alcohol-fuelled body.

“Your first mistake was not going for a colour scheme!” Nick declares when Liam says in passing that he doesn’t think the tinsel matches the baubles. Louis’ sure there is an innuendo there but he can’t make it up in time.

“We don’t have enough of one colour to make a colour scheme!” Harry tells Nick pointedly.

“Mix and match then, you could have! Blue and silver, gold and red, silver and red; the possibilities are endless, Harold.”

“God, you two are disgusting, stop flirting.” Liam tells them sternly. Louis can’t help the jealous jolt that runs through his body, and he watches Nick’s profile for any sign of reaction but there is none.

He watches Nick pluck his beer off the side, make a face at it and turn around with a sigh.

“Want another bevvie, Lou?” Nick asks, as casually and softly as is normally reserved for their time alone together, in Nick’s flat or in a deserted corner of the house sharing two minutes together.

He nods, thanking Nick when he returns a moment later with two bottles, passing one to Louis and running his hand deftly and comfortingly over his shoulder as he passes. Nick sits down on the opposite sofa, as far away as he could possibly be, but Louis feels better about this secret they’re keeping than he has done in days.

++

The kids have been practising for their Christmas concert since mid-November, and the big day finally arrives on the fourteenth of December. Harry has promised that he is coming. He’s apparently got the day off and ‘has nothing better to do’. Louis is sure he meant well.

His kids are past the point of being able to concentrate on anything academic during the run up to the 1.30pm performance. They spend the morning pouring mounds of glitter onto blobs of glue on paper and calling them Christmas cards.

“Yous excited for Christmas, Mr Tom-er-son?” Casey asks him as he sits around the table with six of them, supervising and half-heartedly working on his own masterpiece.

“I am, but I bet I’m not as excited as you guys!” He gives a textbook answer. The faces around the table light up with excitement. “But it’s my birthday on Christmas Eve, so that’s what I’m most excited about!”

“No way!” Lexi enthuses, wide eyed.

“I didn’t know you could have a birthday when it’s Christmas!”

“Yeah, you can have a birthday any day!” Louis nods animatedly. “I get extra pressies!”

They all look beside themselves with jealousy, and Louis marvels in the fact that you absolutely don’t get more presents - not when you’re an adult anyway.

After lunch they round the kids up, get them all changed into their Christmas jumpers – which is more of an ordeal than it needs to be, honestly – and then line up in the classroom ready to make the short but ultimately stressful journey from the classroom to the main hall.

Miss Harris leads and Louis brings up the rear; there is an excited chatter in the air as parents and siblings buzz around the corridors, making their way towards the hall. There are multiple cries of ‘hi mummy!’ as they pass through, and Louis puts on his best polite smile.

They all assemble at the front, between the audience seats and the stage. All three of the Reception classes join up at that point and that’s when it becomes a little bit harder to keep the kids in control.

They’re up first as the Receptions kids are obviously the youngest and the most distractible. Mrs Hills and Miss Prior’s classes sing two songs each and then it’s Louis’ kids’ turn. They all congregate very nicely on the stage and the music begins, interference screeching through the speakers predictably.

Three or four of them stand up there gormlessly, not even attempting to sing along. A few really shine, enunciating clearly and grinning proudly for their audience. The parents are all on their feet with phones in the air filming, and as he looks away from the stage he catches sight Harry’s curly mop in the periphery of his vision.

And next to him is Nick.

Louis’ heart almost stops; he’s sitting on the end of the row next to Harry, slumped down in his chair watching the proceedings through a gap between the shoulders of the people in front of him. His arms are folded over his body and he’s got his hand up by his mouth chewing at a hole in his sleeve, one foot on top of the other.

Louis’ transfixed for a moment. He can see Nick smile discreetly behind his hand, the lift of his cheeks and the narrowing of his eyes.

It’s like everything else just pales away into insignificance; he can’t even hear the dulcet tones of Away in a Manger that they’d practiced for weeks on end because all he can focus on is Nick. Nick’s here. Nick who said that he was working and then off out this evening, no room in his schedule at all.

Nick moves his hand and he’s smirking, he looks smug, as if he can read Louis’ mind. _Surprise,_ Nick eyes say. _Tricked you didn’t I._

Louis shakes his head softly, only just about remembering that Harry is bearing witness to this exchange too. He’s got to keep his cool. He nods to Harry and turns back to his kids, clapping along with the proud parents as Away in a Manger draws to a close and they’re joined on stage for a group finale of We Wish you a Merry Christmas.

Nick’s presence in the corner of the hall is _most_ distracting as Louis tries to keep tabs on all the kids that are going home early. There are four left by the end, and Louis’ heart genuinely aches for the children that had no adult come to see them perform.

Louis signals to Miss Harris that he’ll just be a minute, and she leads the remaining kids out of the hall. Louis wanders over to where Nick is stood, looking comically awkward.

“Hey love,” He says very softly, just in case. He wonders if Nick can hear the same waver in his voice that he can. “What happened to Harry?”

Nick points down the corridor, and Louis can think of nothing worse than Harry being let loose in a school; he’ll probably end up befriending a whole flock of kids. Nick laughs at the obvious look of distress on his face. “He’s looking for the toilets.”

“Oh,” Louis nods in the opposite direction. “He’s going the wrong way.”

“Shall we try and find him?” Nick asks, looking a bit concerned. Louis nods and begins to wander out of the hall towards the corridor, Nick following behind him cautiously.

“Are you surprised to see me?” Nick asks quietly by his side. Louis looks up and gives him a _duhh_ look. “Harry looked at me like I had two heads when I _casually_ suggested it, but I don’t think he suspected.”

Louis just smiles, but he doesn’t like to think too hard about the implications of the secretiveness. He can’t see Harry but he does spot the vacant disabled staff toilet. He grabs Nick and ducks them inside before anyone shows up.

“Oooh, quickie in the toilets type, are ya?” Nick jokes as Louis bundles them inside the small box room, slamming the door closed as the motion sensor light stutters into action.

“Shurrup, don’t be disgusting!” Louis hisses, slapping Nick’s chest. Nick pulls him in close and wraps both arms around his body so they’re pinned tightly together. “I just wanted to… thanks for comin’, Nick.”

Part of Louis wishes they weren’t keeping this from their friends, but then part of Louis is glad that he doesn’t have to field any questions when they’re still figuring each other out. It’s early days yet, no need for any public declarations. Hence the secret snogging sessions in disabled staff toilets.

“What did you think; do you think I make a good conductor?”

“The best,” Nick assures him with a smile. “They’re dead cute, the littluns. You’re a natural wi’ ‘em.”

“Thanks,” Louis smiles. “I never really grew up past five, so I sorta fit in with them I think.”

“You never really _grew_ past five, either,” Nick chides with a chancing smirk, which Louis slaps his chest for with a loud _oi!_ “Shurrup an’ give me a kiss you little bugger.”

Louis obliges, happy to of course. He pushes Nick gently backwards with his hips until he comes into contact with the sink. He leans back against it and shuffles his feet hip-width apart so Louis can step in between them.

They share several small kisses, Nick’s arms casually around Louis’ middle and gripping the hem of his t-shirt for support while Louis presses his hands against Nick’s chest, curling his fingertips over the jut of his collarbones and brushing the exposed skin where his t-shirt falls away.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” He whispers against Nick’s cheek, sliding his hand up to his neck, resting it around the nape of his neck.

“I know, me texting you sayin’ I was busy all day was a good decoy wasn’t it.”

“Yeah,” Louis laughs, drawing back to look at Nick. Nick cranes his neck forward for another kiss. “I wonder if Harry suspects anything.”

“I doubt it,” Nick shrugs. “Has he said anything to you?” Louis shakes his head. “Nor me.”

Louis’ brain propels forward through time, picturing a reality where this thing between them is official and all the people around them know and accept it. He looks back at Nick, the complacent, dreamy half-smile that tugs at his thin, wide mouth. He’s just about to say something when all of a sudden Nick’s face contorts and the moment is well and truly interrupted by the humongous sneeze that erupts from Nick.

“Flippin’ hell, Nick, attention seeking much?” Louis just manages to leap back and out of the trajectory, nearly jumping out of his skin at the pure theatrics of Nick’s ridiculous sneeze. The first is quickly accompanied by two more. “Are you coming down with a cold or summat?”

Louis wrinkles his nose though Nick shakes his head determinedly. Louis throws him a sceptical look.

“Right, well. We better get out of here. I need to go back to my classroom.”

“Sneaking back to class after a quickie in the toilets, is this a glimpse at what secondary school Louis was like?” Nick jokes, and Louis scoffs. He was as far removed from having quickies in toilets as could be when he was a teenager.

“Shut up, I’ll go first, follow me out in a sec and go find Harry.”

++

“Where’d you disappear to after the show?” Harry asks later on when they’re back at home.

“Toilet then back to class. I looked for you but you’d gone. With Grimmy?”

God, that felt foreign on his tongue, calling Nick ‘Grimmy’.

“I found him in the corridors lookin’ at the kids’ artwork on the walls. Think he got a bit lost.”

Louis smiles absently, picturing Nick expelling himself from the toilets nonchalantly and wandering around searching for Harry, planning his story to explain away his brief absence.

“You didn’t mind him tagging along, did you? I think he’s just bored, too co-dependent and all that.” Harry says with a nervous shrug.

Louis finds it quite funny, really, that Harry thinks he minds Nick’s presence. He merely shakes his head and patently ignores all the things he suddenly realises he’s keeping secret from his best friend.

++

Over the weekend, Nick’s rattly chest and sneezing develop into a full blown cold, as Louis discovers when he turns up at his flat on Sunday afternoon.

He winces at the hoarse voice that greets him, followed by a scraping, hacking cough through the intercom that promptly cuts off. Nick has left his front door on the latch for him, and when Louis creeps in, calling out his arrival cautiously, he hears a small voice coming from Nick’s bedroom. “In ‘ere!”

He quietly notes and files away the fact that this is the first time he’s going into Nick’s bedroom. He pushes the door and it squeaks quietly on its hinges. He laughs softly at the helpless Nick sprawled across the bed on his tummy with the duvet cover pulled right up to his ears and socked feet hanging out the bottom.

“My feet are cold!” Nick whines miserably, rubbing his heels together fruitlessly.

“You shouldn’t be so tall then, m’love,” Louis says, reaching down to tickle the sole of Nick’s left foot. Nick thrashes his legs about, wailing noisily which sets him off on another coughing fit.

“Don’t, it hurts to cough!” He moans. “Hurts to breathe.”

Louis perches on the edge of the bed and pushes Nick’s floppy hair back off his face. His skin is pale and clammy and his eyes are as red as his nose is. “I know it’s Christmas but that doesn’t mean you have’ta dress up as Rudolph, love.”

Nick snorts softly out of his blocked nose and that triggers a coughing fit again. Nick’s cough is chesty and dry; probably made worse by his smoking. Stop making me laugh I said!”

“Sorry, didn’t realise I was that hilarious.”

Nick just rolls his eyes, which are watery and glassy now. Louis reaches back out and runs the edge of his index finger over Nick’s brow. He furrows it in direct response.

“I’m sorry I never put you off, just… wanted to see you. You don’t have to stay, I don’t want you to-” Sneeze! “Catch my cold.”

Louis leans back, away from the germ cloud. “Okay, very kind of you.”

“Unless… you don’t care?” Nick remarks, obviously joking. His voice is so nasally and hoarse like this, Louis kind of likes it. Apart from the obvious highly contagious virus he’s carrying, of course. “If it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me!”

Louis snorts. “Love, I think anything more strenuous than a walk to the loo and back would be too much for you right now.”

Nick makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, like he’s reluctantly agreeing. Louis slumps his shoulders and looks down at Nick, watching him lay there, cheek smushed into the mattress and his lips pouting exaggeratedly.

Louis sighs. “C’mere, you big idiot. Roll over.”

Nick does as he’s told. Louis pulls back the duvet and settles into the warmth where Nick had been. He slots his foot between Nick’s bony ankles and rests his hand on Nick’s hip. He shuffles down the bed a bit so he has to tilt his head up to look at Nick.

Nick looks down at him, his lips dry and chapped and cheeks pale.

“You look like shit,” Louis tells him frankly, and Nick’s mouth drops open. “Sorry, love. I still like you though.”

The moment feels a bit too loaded all of a sudden, like they’re teetering on the edge between their current status and a whole other one, an entire next level. Instead of facing it, he literally dips out of Nick’s gaze, burrows his face into Nick’s chest and pulls their bodies close together in a tight cuddle.

“Thanks Lou,” Nick whispers into his hair. Louis doesn’t say anything back, just rubs Nick’s back through his big baggy hoodie. Even though he’s wrapped up in the duvet, the central heating is on and he’s in a huge hoodie he still feels cold, shivering under Louis’ touch.

Louis holds him until he starts to get sweaty and nauseously hot under the duvet. Nick sniffs almost constantly, and every once in a while he lets out a strangled, frustrated sigh. It’s tough to get out of bed, to leave Nick, but he has to eventually.

“Thanks for the cuddle,” Nick says glumly. “I hope you don’t catch what I’ve got.”

Louis shrugs. If he does, he does. He’s had plenty of sniffles working with children, it’s inevitable. If his next cold happens to be the work of one particularly oversized man child named Nicholas, then well so be it.

“It’s okay.” He promises. “I’m gonna go now. Will you be okay?”

Nick looks at him forlornly and nods with a reluctant sigh. Louis can’t help but smile as he picks up Nick’s cuppa and passes it to him. “Just rest up. Take these cold and flu tablets and drink your tea. You’ll feel better.”

“Yes, mum.” Nick says as he accepts the tea from Louis.

“Don’t be weird,” Louis chastises with a small smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Text me if you need anything, or…” He trails off, realising it’s not going to be that easy for Louis to be at Nick’s beck and call if he needs anything. “Y’know, I’m sure Harry won’t mind.”

Nick nods blankly, his eyes not meeting Louis’. Louis kisses him anyway, even when Nick turns his cheek.

++

The house sits empty on Monday morning apart from him; everyone else still at work while Louis’ holiday has already begun. By eleven o’clock he’s got up, made his bed, pout a load of washing on, eaten Marmite on toast, watched Jeremy Kyle and Homes under the Hammer _and_ showered.

Then, an idea dawns on him. He’s home alone. He can do what he wants.

One minute later, his call to Nick is connected.

“You sound better today.”

“Yeah, feeling a bit better,” Nick says with an obligatory sniff. “Those tablets you left helped. I took four last night at about eleven and slept all the way through to twenty minutes ago.”

“Nick!” Louis exclaims. “You’re not supposed to do that!”

“Oh relax, I’m alive aren’t I?”

“I didn’t mean for you to get an addiction to cold and flu tablets though!” Louis exclaims, and Nick laughs, clearer and heartier than yesterday, but it still results in a coughing fit.

“How’re you phoning me anyway? It’s… half past twelve in the afternoon on a Monday.”

“Everyone else is at work, I’m here by m’self.”

Nick makes a loud and elongated _ohh_ sound. “Sorry I completely forgot to congratulate you on your most recent holiday!” Nick says, voice dripping with sarcasm, but Louis can hear his grin.

“You can come over if you want?” Nick says suggestively.

So Louis does.

++

The only person that might question his whereabouts is Harry, but Louis is back from Nick’s way before Harry comes in from work at half past eight. He sort of feels like he needs to bathe in disinfectant to escape Nick’s cold germs, but getting to spend the afternoon with him on the sofa under the blanket watching telly and eating Batchelor’s cup-a-soup was more than worth it.

By Tuesday Nick is back at work, though he still isn’t one hundred percent. That means a quiet day for Louis, who has Niall home with him for most of the day. A million and one Christmas deliveries from Amazon have been arriving at their door all day, and Niall’s one roll of wrapping paper is definitely not going to be enough.

Together they traipse out to the town centre to Card Factory to buy more paper. Louis puts his fur lined jacket over Nick’s hoodie and double wraps his black scarf around his neck and he’s still cold.

It’s icy cold out but inside the crowded shop it’s boiling hot. He takes off his scarf and scowls at the floor as he stands behind Niall waiting for him to make his choice of wrapping paper.

“Just pick anything, Ni, what does it matter?”

“It’s gotta be a nice one!” Niall mutters. “Plus, these rolls are only 5m but these are 10m and only 25p more expensive! Gotta be savvy, Tommo.”

Louis sniffs and nods. “Fine. Just hurry up.”

Niall queues for almost as long as he was choosing his paper and the stress makes Louis crave a cigarette. But out in the open air, eyes stinging with the cold breeze, he feels better. They head to Superdrug for deodorant and then Louis decides they’re stopping at Greggs for festive bakes and caramel lattes.

“You comin’ down with a cold?” Niall asks as they stand behind the counter, Louis sniffing until he has a headache.

“Nah, it’s just the weather isn’t it?” Louis replies, but he knows better than that. He is going to _kill_ Nick. Not that he didn’t know full well what he was getting himself into.

By the time they get home, Harry is in the kitchen starting tea; a Tuesday night roast.

“Don’t forget my Yorkshire’s,” Louis says, Harry grinning smugly as he points out the Pyrex jug full of batter ready to go.

++

_‘Am on a training course in manchester tomorrow, hq booked 2 tix by mistake, fancy coming? It’s 2hrs then I’m free. If you’re up for it? xx’_

It seems all Nick has to do is say jump, and Louis will ask how high.

Louis’ awake at seven the next morning, before anyone else in the house, texting his good morning greetings to Nick before creeping out of bed and getting dressed. He necks two swigs of Day Nurse as a precaution.

Liam and Zayn are up by the time he’s sneaking out of the door at quarter to eight to meet Nick, and as far as they’re aware he’s making an early start on some last minute Christmas shopping - never mind his Christmas shopping has been finished for weeks now.

He just makes the 08:51 bus into town. He spots Nick before Nick spots him, perched on the edge of a bench outside the station, one leg crossed over the other smoking a cigarette intensely.

“Hiya,” He says softly, touching Nick’s arm gently. Nick smiles, stubs out his fag and brings Louis in for a hug. He clings to Nick’s coat and takes in a lungful of his scent. They walk through the station, find platform two and share a roll up.

“Are there other people from your work coming?”

“Yeah, but I will meet them there. For the actual journey, I’m all yours.” He says with a cheeky smile.

The train is approaching the station with a _ding dong!_ over the Tannoy and a clunking, screeching pull of brakes. The journey itself, as grand as Nick had made it sound, is only just over fifteen minutes.

They sit side by side and they’re close, the heat from Nick’s leg pressed up against his own. Louis peers out of the grimy window at the drab, industrial view. As they pull out of the station, with Nick’s hand on his knee loosely, the industrial scenery is replaced with countryside. It’s barren and frost covered countryside granted, but it’s quite eerily picturesque, a blanket of fog sitting just above the ground; silent and majestic.

“It’s like you’ve never been on a train before,” Nick says softly, and when he looks away from the window and back at a grinning Nick, Louis realises he’s sat forward in his seat, the tip of his nose almost touching the glass

“Shut up, yes I have.” Louis mutters with a wave of embarrassment.

Nick giggles, biting his bottom lip between his teeth. “Just teasing, love.”

When they get to Manchester Piccadilly, Nick finds his hand down by his side and entwines their fingers together, a display of affection in public that Louis has had little to no experience with. Maybe Nick senses his anxiety because he grips his hand tight as he leads them through the crowds. He runs the pad of his thumb over Louis knuckle, and Louis takes that to mean _are you okay?_

Manchester is diverse and there are people everywhere of every colour and orientation; Louis knows he has no need to worry. No one is looking at them; no one cares about this as much as he does.

The throngs of people thin out as they get away from the station, and Nick leads him through the crowds expertly. Louis forgets that this is his old stomping ground; Nick knows these streets like the back of his hand.

“So this is where I leave you,” Nick announces as they approach a large multi-storey building with lots of glass windows reflecting the overcast grey sky. “Like I say, it will only be a few hours and then I’ll be done. You gonna be okay?”

“Yes Nick, of course. I’m a big boy.”

Nick’s lip quirks like he wants to make a smart remark, but he doesn’t. “What are you gonna do, look around the shops or summat?”

“Yeah, probably. Find somethin’ to eat, I’m starving.”

Nick smiles. “Nothin’ too big, I’m taking you for lunch, okay?”

Nick leans in, drops the softest, briefest of kisses to his temple and Louis’ skin immediately lights up with supercharged electricity. He’s unable to keep the glow of his cheeks tamped down as he begins to wander back the way he came, away from Nick.

He wanders aimlessly back towards the shops. He stops apologising after the fifth person barges past him with their handbag or their shoulder. With his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and elbows tucked unnecessarily close to his body, he wanders into Manchester’s famously massive Primark and comes out with eye masks, hair brushes, velvet scrunchies and a little vial of Moroccan oil each for all the girls.

Nick is a lot more awake by the time Louis sees him again.

“I‘ve had four black coffees from the machine!” He declares proudly. “Now I’m chewing on gum to get rid of me breath!”

Louis rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Did you miss me?” Nick asks

“Shut up, no I didn’t miss you.” Louis lies, knowing Nick can see right through it. “Shove this bag inside yours, please? So where are we going?”

++

Nick stays back to smoke a cigarette before they go inside the pub for lunch, and despite his insistence that Louis should go in out of the cold, Louis stays by his side. Nick inhales deeply with every pull, purposely speeding himself along.

Louis sniffs absentmindedly, not even realising he’s doing it halt the time. He’s staring at the large concrete planters stocked with dying, fairy light adorned evergreens, and when he looks up Nick is looking at him with a twisted, scrutinising expression, cigarette smoke engulfing him like a halo.

“You’re catching my cold.” Nick states.

“Am not!” Louis denies immediately. “It’s the weather; it’s enough to make anyone sniff!”

Nick raises a sceptical brow and offers Louis the end of his smoke. Louis shakes his head, already feeling his breathing becoming a bit laboured. Nick gives him another look, but then they head into the pub together, Nick’s hand resting in the small of his back.

They talk a lot as they eat, about everything and nothing. Louis gets a bit more insight into Nick’s life, what illustrates his story. He offers up little bits to Nick too; stories that involve Harry, a story about Lottie’s first Christmas when he was six years old. He makes Nick laugh, and it feels good.

“You’re really lovely, aren’t ya?” Nick says fondly as their laughter dies out. Louis goes immediately bashful and dismisses Nick’s comment. “You always do that, y’know. You don’t take compliments well do you?”

Louis tenses up slightly. “No. I don’t know how to… I dunno I just don’t.”

“You should,” Nick says, and Louis gives him a look, as if to say easier said than done. “I know, it’s easy for me to say you just _should_ , I know that, but like… you’re special.”

Louis snorts self-deprecatingly. “Special needs, maybe.”

Nick rolls his eyes but he lets it pass without calling Louis out again. He moves the conversation on as the waitress reappears to take their pudding order. After initial refusal, Nick convinces him to order the Chocolate Bomb, which turns out to be a very decadent melt in the middle chocolate dessert with hot fudge sauce, tiny gold dusted praline pieces and popping candy.

“You are _such_ a little kid!” Louis exclaims as Nick picks all the popping candy off the top and drops them onto his tongue, giggling open mouthed at the noise it makes.

It’s raining by the time they’re ready to go, leaving Louis with no choice but to shrug on his beanie; perfectly styled hair be damned.

“Is this okay?” Nick checks in with him as they join hands and hurry through the icy winter and the crowds back towards the train station.

The station is vast and noisy and every train brings with it an echoic, deafening din that vibrates right through Louis’ already rattly chest.

Nick’s caffeine buzz well and truly dies on the short journey home. He slumps in his seat, legs parted widely so his right knee presses up against Louis’ leg. His head lolls back against the headrest and he rolls his head around to look up at Louis; up because he’s slumped so far down in his seat he’s almost laying down.

“You all right?” Louis asks, turning to look at Nick too. They’re very close, close enough to have a little kiss if they wanted to. Nick stares up at him, wide and innocent eyes making him look considerably younger and more vulnerable than his thirty-something years.

Nick nods heavily. “Thanks for comin’ today. I know it must’ve been boring, and a lot of effort just for a pub lunch.”

“I liked it,” Louis says truthfully. “Thanks for asking me.”

Nick smiles, laughing softly. “You’re welcome, love.”

They sit in the silence of the carriage, comfortable and easy. Nick’s hand rests steadily on Louis’ thigh. Nick’s thumb running softly back and forth over the area is a comfort that Louis didn’t realise he needed.

“Want to come back with me?” Nick asks sleepily as they near the station. They pause while the Tannoy announces their impending arrival, then Nick adds, “No funny business, just… I sorta don’t want you to go home yet.”

Louis’ chest does that weird tight, fluttery thing again, but this time he suspects it’s not because of his pending viral illness. He agrees and once they emerge from the station they head straight for Nick’s flat. They walk there, because apparently Nick is well into walking. That’s one thing Louis and his bus pass don’t appreciate so much, but he lets it slide.

By the time they get in, Louis’ hands and feet are like blocks of ice and the end of his nose as red as a London bus. He excuses himself to the loo and just runs his hands under the hot tap until he starts to feel sensations again.

When he returns, Nick has changed into his oldest jeans and the kettle has recently boiled; a cup of tea waiting for Louis, steaming hot and looking very inviting.

He goes to reach for the cup but Nick swerves it out of his reach and hands him water instead. He’s just about to protest when Nick reveals two cold and flu capsules in his other hand.

“Take them,” Nick insists. “You will feel better and I will feel less guilty about infecting you. You can have your tea after.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t say it like that, sounds disgusting.” He takes the tablets with the water and leaves the glass on the edge of the sink. He takes the tea and follows Nick through to the living room.

They take up their places on the sofa, as is becoming a sort of tradition for them. Nick makes grabby hands for the fleece blanket that is dumped on the coffee table, and Louis reaches for it. Nick brings his legs up and tucks into Louis’ side under the blanket, resting his head on his shoulder.

Louis wraps his arm around Nick’s leg, pulling it down towards him so they’re even closer, sharing body heat. He traces the skin exposed through the rips in the knees of Nick’s jeans.

“Is this weird for you?” Nick asks without looking at him.

“What, the cuddle?” Louis asks, stilling his finger where he’d been tracing along the gaping material of the knee of Nick’s jeans. He doesn’t look up at Nick either, but he hears the soft laugh.

“No, what we’re doing. Like, seeing each other?”

Louis carefully retracts his finger and draws his hand up into a casual fist. _Still_ not looking at Nick, he replies. “Is that what we’re doing?”

Nick doesn't answer immediately. Louis can barely feel him moving, but he can positively _feel_ the static hum of tension that pulses between them.

“Would you not call it that?”

“I… I hadn’t really thought about it,” Louis lies. He had thought about it, deep in the middle of the night when he was minutes from sleep and their text conversations were running out. He had agonised over what this was, what it might become, how he would deal with it. But he’d never let himself think about it too much during the cold hard light of day.

“Oh,” Nick says, obviously drawing some conclusions from Louis’ less than satisfactory response.

“I mean, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean I find it weird.” He looks up from where he’d been staring at Nick’s knee, but the man won’t meet his eye. “Nick?”

“Okay…” Nick says eventually. The silence was a few seconds of torture. “Y’know, you’re the only one out of that lot that calls me Nick. Never Grim or Grimmy but Nick, always Nick.”

Louis doesn't know what to say to that. He keeps himself in Nick’s gaze, considering everything. “That’s true.” He eventually settles on. Smooth.

“You don’t like to hold hands in public?” Nick states, which takes Louis by surprise. “Or at least, it makes you nervous?”

Louis feels like he can’t breathe; he begins to shake. He’d been expecting accusatory anger from Nick, but he’s soft and questioning.

“I… it’s not you.” He says, and they both smile equally at the cliché. “I struggle with…” He doesn’t even know what to say. “I am _out_ , I just… I don’t like to broadcast it around too much. I- I get nervous.”

Nick studies him closely as he talks, and suddenly the floodgates are open and Louis feels the need to get it all off his chest.

“I know that makes me sound like I’m ashamed of who I am, but that’s not true. I am… happy, proud even, but I’ve always been terrified of what people think of me and that creeps into that too. I don’t want it to, but it’s like learned, y’know? I’m working on it.”

“That’s fair,” Nick says. “You don’t need to feel like that around me, mind.”

“I know,” Louis shakes his head. “I don’t feel like that with you.”

He sits and mulls it over for a moment, his hand steady on the curve of Nick’s knee. “I knew I didn’t fancy girls from about nine or ten years old. There was always something in the way of me telling my mum though. She kept having babies,” He laughs softly, as does Nick. His attention is undivided on Louis. “Each time a new sister was born, I’d get less and less confident. She had enough stress; she didn’t need me adding to it. By about age twelve I realised that it might be… a problem, y’know. Me not liking girls like that. I realised that not everyone in the world necessarily… liked gay people.”

“Twelve is such a shit age,” Nick comments.

Louis nods solemnly. “I put it off for ages, telling her. The longer I left it the worse it got. Then the girls’ dad left and it definitely wasn’t the time. It was a mess at home for ages after that. I wasn’t seeing boys, I wasn’t doing anything with anyone, so I convinced myself there was nothing to tell and left it at that. I mean, Harry knew, but that’s it. When we left school, I started to get a bit more confident; had a boyfriend in college. He didn’t like being kept a secret though. And then… and then lots of stuff happened at one. My mum was really poorly for a long time and I was terrified that I’d- well, that she’d die and never know the truth. Shit, sorry. I’m over it all now, it’s fine, I just… sometimes it’s not fine.”

“Lou, love, c’mere.” Nick winds his arms around Louis and holds him. “Y’don’t have to feel like you can’t talk to me, okay Lou? Even if we’re… whatever, or not. I may not be so anxious about the gay thing but I do have _some_ idea. I still have my moments. And, of course Harry’ll be there for you in a heartbeat, I know it.”

Louis smiles against Nick’s shoulder at the thought of his best friend. The idea makes him want to cry more; the journey that he and Harry had made together through eleven years of school and beyond.

“I was twenty one when I told mum. Funny thing is, she didn’t even care. She just said that she could see how happy I was with the weight off my shoulders.” Louis stifles a laugh. “She thought me and Harry were going out. Harry came out when we were all in college; it seemed so easy for him, he never had problems. I envied him, _hated_ him sometimes. But I couldn’t have made it without him.”

“He’s a good lad, him.” Nick agrees. “Talks about you all the time. So hard not to agree with everything he says.”

Louis nods humourlessly. “Kinda shit that he doesn't know, isn't it?”

“Could tell him.”

“If...” He can’t find the confidence to choose the words that will finish that sentence.

“If things don’t work out it will be weird, I know. That’s the risk you take though, isn't it. Not like we were best mates before.”

“Don’t say that,” Louis laughs thickly, realising that yes, along the path Nick has become one of his best friends.

Nick snorts. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

They smile at each other and slip back into silence that isn't quite as comfortable as the train earlier.

“Do you wanna hear my coming out story?” Nick asks, breaking the silence. “Get a real feel for fifteen year old Grimmy?”

Louis can picture him now; a bad boyband haircut, turtleneck and baggy jeans, maybe glasses too? With a laugh he nods. “Yes please.”

“So, as you already know, I was fifteen. The year 2000, you were only- no I don't even want to think about how old you were. I was fifteen, that’s all that matters.”

Louis giggles. “Self-absorbed, egotistical, narcissist.”

Nick eyes him with a smirk before continuing with his story. Louis feels better after hearing it, after picturing little old Nick all the way in Oldham, Manchester, coming out to his considerably older, straight laced parents and - Nick’s words - ‘blokey laddy older brother’. A shy and awkward teenager is so far from what Nick is like now, unapologetically confident in himself, that Louis barely recognises it. All he knows is the revelation and the added bit of history makes his heart swell with room for Nick.

“Thanks,” He says, “For tellin’ me that. It’s always nice to hear. I- I wish I was brave enough to come out before twenty one.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong wi’that,” Nick says quickly, reassuringly. “It’s not about being brave, it’s about being ready. Sometimes it’s just not the right time; it’s not safe, whatever. There’s a million reasons, right?”

Louis nods. “You sound like Harry.”

Nick laughs. “Don’t mention him now,” He says softly, his tongue flicking over his lips quickly.

“Why?” Louis breathes heavily.

“‘Cause I’m about to kiss you,” Nick says, leaning in and pressing their lips together on the word ‘about’, losing the end but Louis gets it. Nick kisses him, there in the flat under the fleece blanket on a freezing cold and dark December. Ed Sheeran eat your heart out; write a love song about _this._

Nick touch is deft and gentle; Louis’ cheek, his jaw, the sweet spot under his earlobe. “Don’t want you to go,” He says between times.

“I have to eventually.” Louis answers, quite some time later.

Eventually turns out to be quarter to eleven, in the middle of a sleety downpour. They don’t wait on the front step for the taxi like they had done a few weeks before; the weather having taken a drastic nosedive very quickly. Instead they stand by the window, curtains drawn but open a crack, with Louis perched on the window sill, back pressed up against the glass and Nick between his legs rocking him from side to side in an embrace.

“Am not off to war,” Louis remarks softly into Nick’s arm, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“Sorry,” Nick laughs wetly. “It must be all that Night Nurse, it’s made me unacceptably clingy and emotional.”

“Plus, you had an early morning.”

“That’s true,” Nick smiles. “Christmas is a very stressful time for anyone.”

“You’re almost thirty three, too.”

“Oi, cheeky git, I _just_ turned thirty two in August! The fourteenth, by the way, ‘case you wanna get me a card next year.”

“We’ll see,” Louis says with a grin, just as his phone starts to vibrate on Nick’s coffee table. “Oh, my chariot awaits.”

Nick pouts like an idiot. Louis rolls his eyes and Nick earns himself a playful shove on the arm, but three minutes later when Louis’ in the taxi alone and heading home, he suddenly misses Nick more than anything.

He can hear an Ed Sheeran song playing very quietly on the car radio, too. Shit.

++

He sneaks in and up the stairs before anyone can stop him. When he hears a soft knock, presumably Harry, about twenty minutes later he pretends to be asleep and his visitor gives up.

++

The next morning he feels like death warmed up. His right nostril is completely blocked and he’s got a headache before he even lifts his head off the pillow. He sends the green faced nauseous emoji and the fist emoji to Nick and throws his phone back down on the bed to get swallowed up by the duvet cover.

He finds Harry in the kitchen when he finally ventures out of his room.

“Wow, you look rough!” He exclaims.

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Cheers.” His voice is gruff and croaky, throat thick and poorly. “I’m not very well.”

“I can see,” Harry replies, eyeing him cautiously as he moves across the kitchen to the round table. “Want a honey and lemon? Some cold and flu tablets?”

Louis sighs as he leans over and rests his hands on his crossed arms. “Yes, please.”

Harry smiles like a protective parent and sets about making a sachet of Lemsip and then a tea for Louis, as well as providing him with two cold and flu tablets and some decongestants too.

“S’funny,” He says as he sits down too. “Nick has a cold too,” Harry says, his eyebrows knitting together in a juvenile frown of confusion.

Louis’ heart just about stops, he subconsciously lifts his head off the table, ready to start confessing, when Harry’s confusion breaks into a smile. “Guess it’s that time of year! You’ll take all of us lot down with yours, I bet.”

Harry’s grinning, completely oblivious still, and Louis could burst out laughing at how clammy his palms suddenly are. “Yeah, uh, sorry in advance.”

Harry waves a dismissive hand then picks up his tea. “You best be better by Saturday, we’re going out for your birthday.”

Louis’ heart sinks with the realisation. After his mum was ill she’d made him promise not to let anything hold him back; drink that extra beer, stay out an extra hour, work that little bit harder to get whatever it is he wanted. So, within reason of course, he’d promised to at least let his hair down on birthdays, but in reality the practice was a lot harder than the theory.

“No eye rolling or huffing, Lou, you only turn twenty six once!”

Louis fails to see the logic in celebrating twenty six, it’s hardly a milestone, but he knows better than to argue with Harry.

Harry goes off to work at twenty to eleven and Louis longs to ask after Nick, to ask Harry to check in with him but of course there’s no way. So, he lets Harry go; sporadic at best texts throughout the day the most he can get from Nick until six when he finishes his shift.

Nick and Harry are out somewhere together all evening, and hearing about it all from both sides of the spectrum is certainly interesting. Harry’s texts are few and far between and get less and less coherent as they go, while Nick apparently isn't even at the same do as Harry, because he sounds bored and tells Louis that he misses him, that he wishes he was there.

He can’t go to sleep until he knows Harry is on his way home safely, which is after two am. By the time Louis hears the taxi pulling up outside it’s almost three and the Night Nurse that he’d swigged earlier is threatening to pull him under at any moment.

Harry spends his Friday off work syphoning soup and cough syrup into Louis, and when Louis wakes up from his nap to find it’s suddenly 7pm, he’s sure Harry must’ve spiked his soup.

Saturday comes, and as promised Louis is fresh out of the shower and looking for something to wear out tonight. He’s feeling no better, all the cough syrup did was give him heartburn and he’s decided he _never_ wants to see cream of mushroom soup again.

He moodily pulls on his black skinnies over Calvin’s that have probably seen better days. That much is easy; that’s his staple going out clobber. Choosing the top half is always harder and he narrows it down to two choices which finally becomes a white round neck and denim shirt. As soon as it’s on he looks in the mirror and balks. It’s not good enough but nothing else is good enough either. Eventually he pushes the wardrobe closed, his reflection disappears and he decides not to waste any more of his flagging energy on couture.

Downstairs it’s him, Niall and Zayn. Liam arrives home just before seven and not far behind him are Harry and Nick.

“Sorry, sorry!” Harry flies around like a dervish trying to get his bag and his coat off, his boots off and himself into the shower.

Louis has to, once again, keep neutral when he sees Nick, and even participate in a bit of ‘banter’ at his expense.

“Harry’s shadow’s here again,” Zayn remarks loudly, before adding to Louis, “Still, keeps the numbers up, eh Billy No Mates?”

“Fuck you,” Louis replies weakly, unable to shake the desire to apologise to Nick, which is ridiculous because he’s taken a lot worse from the group and never shown affect from it at all.

“Are any of you pillocks getting the drinks in or…?” Nick stands in the doorway staring expectantly then backs out towards the kitchen. He’s a vision in monochrome; black jeans, a loose patterned shirt and a black jacket. He leaves his scent of washing powder and aftershave in his wake and returns a moment later with two bottles of Corona cracked open.

Nick stops in front of Louis and holds one of the beers out to him. Louis panics momentarily, not reaching out to take the drink.

“For the birthday boy,” Nick clarifies, a hint of what seems to Louis’ fragile mind like irritation, and he reaches for it with a rushed, mumbled thank you.

“Don’t get used to the special treatment.” Nick says, softer this time, but only just. Louis washes down his cold and flu tablets with a mouthful of Corona.

They go to Niall’s pub for pre-drinks first and the barman gives them a round of shots on the house along with their beers. They clink them together, droplets flying into the air, and Louis throws his back with just a minor wince.

Louis slams his glass down just as a familiar female voice suddenly sparks in his ear. “Did you think you could get away without inviting me, Tomlinson?”

He’s beyond pleased to see Perrie, jumping up and shimmying out of the booth to give her a hug. He clings to her a beat longer than maybe necessary, and the firm squeeze she gives his arm when they separate tells him that maybe she can sense his slight unease.

He introduces her around to the five that have met her before, glaring warning daggers at Zayn, before he gets to Nick and he falters.

“This is uh, Nick. Harry _\- our_... friend. Nick.”

He doesn't even dare make eye contact with Perrie _or_ Nick as she pleasantly waves and tells him it’s lovely to meet him, and to see the others again.

Perrie and her three mates end up joining them for one drink, dragging chairs over to their table to form a rather formidable group of ten that takes over the majority of the place, both in size and in volume. They spend about a hundred quid on booze between them in an hour, though, so Louis’ sure the landlord won’t mind.

He’s not sure of much else, though, because he’s all of a sudden very, _very_ drunk.

People are yelling enthusiastically to each other from one end of the table to the other, shouting over each other and fighting for the floor. He fades out of listening to what Zayn and Niall are shouting across to Perrie’s mate Leigh and tries to concentrate on what Perrie and Harry are talking about, but then he catches Nick’s eye and that stops him in his tracks.

He’s not ready for the way Nick’s making him feel, so soon, so sudden. He’s blaming the booze and the painkillers, because it’s a less harsh reality.

Somewhere along the way they lose the girls but gain Santa hats and a beard that Niall goes for immediately. In the taxi into town they single horribly along to Mariah Carey on the radio; the taxi driver’s patience and good humour second to none.

Louis gets a free birthday drink in almost every club they visit, and since Niall is leading them, that’s a lot of clubs. It all ends rather abruptly, with Harry and Nick and tears in the back garden at 4 am.

“I just, ah, fucking hell I’m sorry, I am. I just feel so ill, I can’t...”

He doesn't really have a clue what’s going on. Doesn’t know how they got home, when they got home, why they’re out in the garden. Niall or maybe Zayn came out a minute ago but Harry batted them away. He can smell cigarette smoke, where is his Nick?

“Harry, I’m sorry. I am. I’m sorry.”

Harry doesn't seem drunk; he’s a steady pillar of support for Louis and no matter how many times he stumbles over nothing or bursts into unexplained tears, Harry doesn't budge.

“What’re you sorry for, Lou? You’re okay, we’re home now.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your- my birthday, I… oh fucking hell I feel sick-”

He won’t remember being sick in the garden until the next afternoon, but it definitely happens and more than once.

“Grim!” He hears Harry call. “Stay with him, I’m gonna get him some water.”

Nick’s very close then, holding onto him tight and in Nick’s arms he feels safe. He cocoons him in and Louis can breathe in the scent of aftershave that still lingers on the V of exposed skin on Nick’s chest.

“Nick, I- I’m sorry I’m so embarrassed.”

“It’s okay love, I’m here. We’re all here, it’s okay. You’re just tired and too poorly to be this drunk. You’re gonna be okay, babe.”

“I’m sorry it’s like this. I just want to… with you, normal.”

Nick doesn't comment on the fact he’s not making sense, he just carries on holding him, keeping absolutely steady as a rock.

“Grim?” Harry’s voice comes back then and he feels Nick’s embrace loosen. He keeps a protective arm around his body but it’s clinical again, back to how it was earlier.

“He’s okay, went a bit wobbly so I was just keeping him upright. Didn't want him falling onto this wet grass.”

Louis keeps his eyes clenched tightly closed as he listens to Nick talking. The earth is swaying under his feet, and the wet grass is indeed seeping through his shoes.

“Harry, help?” He mumbles weakly, falling forward against Harry’s body again.

“Lou, you’ve gotta drink this,” Harry instructs him, staggering to keep vertical. He takes the crumpled water bottle Harry holds up to his lips and takes a sip, immediately blurting the liquid back up. “Come on, try again.”

He does try again, some time later. It hurts as it goes down, and the expansion in his tummy hurts. Harry leads him inside, he doesn't know when Nick left the garden but he’s there in the living room when Harry guides him in and over to the sofa.

“Keep him on his side,” He hears Nick’s voice over all of the other chatter, and someone’s hand runs up and down the length of his spine as he lies on his side on the sofa. The room is still spinning and he tries in vain to hold onto the cushion cover but it feels like it’s slipping too.

“He’s gonna go! Haz get him summat!” Someone – Zayn – shouts, and his watering eyes close and he doesn’t check to see if someone had found him a bucket before he’s sick again.

++

The next thing Louis is properly aware of, with one hundred percent certainty, is daylight and a pounding in his head that becomes an intolerable migraine the second he opens his eyes.

He throws his arm over his face, nuzzling the crook of his elbow as his body contorts in a mutant stretch. His shallow breathing becomes heavier and steadier as he wakes, and the effort that it takes to drag himself to sitting is almost killer.

The first thing he does is grab his phone – which is conveniently fully charged and waiting on the bedside table – to check for any evidence of irreversible damage he might’ve done via text or social media, but the last messages sent are all before they started drinking and are safe.

It’s only a mild consolation, though, for how fuzzy and achy his head feels. He goes to his photos next, to see if he can piece together any photographic evidence to account for why his head feels so rough. There are many, _many_ blurry shots of feet and legs and half-faces, but there in the middle of the third row of snaps is a perfectly clear picture of him and Nick. He’s sprawled over a posh looking leather couch while Nick sits cross legged and compact on the other end rolling his eyes heavenwards looking like he’s about to burst out laughing.

His first thought is he never wants to lose this photo. His second thought is that he looks genuinely happy. He’s strewn over the sofa with his feet up and arms open wide, he’s exposed but happy. He’s actually smiling. Shamelessly he pinches and drags the image so it’s just Nick focussed on the screen. His heart swoops in his chest and he knows in that moment that he’s absolutely, completely and irrevocably fucked.

He wonders if he’s going to see Nick when he creeps downstairs. The pipes creak and whirr deep in the skeleton of the house. He pushes the living door open and finds Harry and Liam – no sign of the others. He doesn’t even have to say anything, Harry leaps to his feet as soon as he spots Louis and bounds over for a hug.

“Happy birthday Loubear,” Harry says, muffled into his shoulder, and he squeezes him that much tighter. He’d forgotten it was his birthday. He holds tight; he doesn’t want to let go but he has to eventually.

“Thanks Haz,” He whispers, because his voice is stuck in his throat, threatened by a huge lump. “I’m sorry for last night.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lou.” Harry says, sitting back down. Louis sits down on the sofa next to Liam, crosses his legs and pulls his sleeves down over his hands.

“Sorry, Li, I think I made a fool of meself.”

Liam waves a dismissive hand. “We all get drunk and make idiots of ourselves,” He says, turning to pointedly stare at Harry. “Some more than others.”

“Shut up,” Harry mumbles. “It was nice to not be That Guy for once.”

Louis’ tummy does a disappointed, embarrassed little shuffle but he smiles. The boys mean well and they’re doing their best to keep his mind off of things.

“Where are the other lads?” He asks, trying to sound casual. He wonders if he did anything to give the game away last night, or at least to get a few people questioning him and Nick’s friendship.

“Still in bed,” Liam answers. “Think Zayn carried on with a bottle of voddy after we put you to bed.”

Louis’ cheeks flare again and he smiles weakly. “What time was that?”

“About three-ish I think?”

He’s assuming by now that Nick isn’t here; he’d be down here with Harry by now if he was.

“What times your train, Lou?” Harry asks, and suddenly everything comes flooding back to Louis. His eyes bug as he remembers he’s going home today, and that he can’t remember what time he booked his bloody train.

“Shit! Oh Christ, what time is my train I can’t remember?!”

“Check your confirmation email!” Harry says helpfully.

“Don’t panic, Lou.” Liam instructs him. He’s almost too afraid to look as he scrolls through his phone looking for the email from Northern Rail.

“Oh thank fuck,” He breathes heavily with relief when he sees 4:45pm. It’s only just gone one in the afternoon, so he’s still got plenty of time.

A message pops up at the top as he’s looking at his phone, from Nick.

_‘Do u have time to swing by before u go? If ur not gone already? X’_

The words fill him with dread; he can’t work out from the tone of the message whether Nick’s upset with him or if something has happened, and his automatic assumption is that Nick’s message is an ominous one; one that he should feel concerned about.

And so, he does. He worries about it in the shower, he frets over it when he’s stuffing clothes and shower gel into his holdall and he panics on the bus the entire way. By the time he has to press the bell to get off at Nick’s stop he’s practically vibrating out of his skin with worry.

It dawns on him as he walks to Nick’s how he now knows this route inside and out. The wind is bitter and drags up in occasional bursts, the sky above him thick with wintery white clouds. Nick’s on the door step bundled up in a hoodie and puffer jacket smoking when Louis arrives. He smiles, which Louis will take as a good sign and it calms his nerves a bit.

“Hi,” He says sheepishly, smiling down to Nick who peers up at him with a mirthful smile.

“Hello. How’re you feeling? Delicate?”

Louis grimaces. “Mmm. Embarrassed too.”

Nick waves a hand in dismissal, like Liam had. Maybe Louis _is_ too hard on himself? “Don’t worry about it, we all get like it from time to time. You spend your whole adult life looking after Harry when he gets like that, it’s about time you initiated pay back.”

Louis laughs softly. “My train is at quarter to five.”

Nick finishes his cigarette in one big final drag. “Better get inside then. Besides, it’s fucking freezing. Me arse has gone numb.”

He readjusts the bag on his shoulder as Nick heaves himself up in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Nick wafts it away and Louis follows him back inside. Nick’s left the door on the latch at the top of the stairs, and when they get in its gloriously warm and familiar.

A chair is pulled out around the table and there’s a fresh cup of tea and a full ashtray. Nick makes another cup for him. Louis sits down opposite Nick, hands gathered in his lap under the table.

“I uh, I was worried I messed up. Your text sounded serious.”

“Did it?” Nick asks obliviously. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean for it to. You didn’t make a fool of yourself- well you did, but not in a forever sorta way. I still like you.”

Louis goes all shy at that last bit, which Nick knows and he’s obviously using to his advantage.

“Happy birthday, by the way. I haven’t had a chance to say it yet.”

Louis smiles. “Thanks. Twenty six feels no different to twenty five.”

“It feels a whole lot better than thirty two, trust me!” Nick says wryly. “I’m happy I got to see you today. Yesterday didn’t count, all them lot there too.”

“Yeah, I’m happy too. Yesterday was… a write off.” Louis grimaces. “I uh, I do remember saying I wish that we could be normal.”

“Yeah, I remember that too.” Nick says softly. “I for one am pretty normal, thank you very much.”

Louis laughs, idly slapping Nick’s chest without force. “You know what I mean though.”

“Yeah,” Nick agrees. “Messing things up is my forte.”

“I’m crap with this sorta thing. I mean, I’ve never really had… y’know, a boyfriend.”

“That’s okay,” Nick says. “Nothing matters apart from us two now.”

Louis marvels at how easily these words come to Nick, how he doesn’t struggle to articulate himself. He wishes he could be like that too, for he knows how he feels and he knows what he wants to say to Nick but actually getting it out is another matter.

“I didn’t think we’d be having this convo right now,” Nick continues, getting away with ‘convo’ instead of conversation just because he’s Nick and that’s what he does.

“How’d you mean?”

“I just… I suppose the feelings part of all this was, unexpected to say the least?”

“Good unexpected?” Louis asks with a lump in his throat as his stomach lurches.

Nick nods vigorously. “Oh yeah. It’s good. And hey, at my age, I can’t really afford to be sitting on my laurels, wasting time when it’s already right in front of me.”

“Shut up, you sound like you’re about fifty!”

“I will be one day, young man.”

“You’re weird,” Louis says, giving Nick an absent eye roll.

“Am not,” Nick retorts, leaning forward on his elbows across the table and kissing the next words right off of Louis’ lips. “I’m only weird because you make me weird.”

Louis laughs as Nick leans back in his chair. “I find that hard to believe. I think it’s Harry. He’s the common link here.”

Nick chortles. “Yeah, that sounds more like it. Blame the one who’s not here to defend himself.”

They both chuckle and then fall into a bit of comfortable silence. Nick takes a large sip of his tea, draining his mug. Louis sips his more carefully.

“So, what do you reckon? About us maybe… one day?” Nick speaks first, cutting Louis’ train of thought off. “Is it… is that, like, something you’d want to do?”

“Like… I know we haven’t talked about it much, but we’ve sorta, y’know, and…?” Louis trails off. He knows _exactly_ what he’s trying to say but he’s expressing it horrifically.

“As truly _incoherent_ as that was, I _think_ you’re saying you do?” Nick asks softly, looking at Louis closely. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. The air between them is suffocating. Louis nods, feeling his cheeks flush with heat and colour. “Okay. Good.” Nick is basically whispering now. “That’s good. Same page an’ all that. Shows that you care about me, a bit, maybe?”

“I do,” Louis says, surprised and amazed at how easy it feels to be so candid with Nick. “I do care, a lot.”

“Like, should we agree then? This… thing, we’ve got, like, we’re not seeing other people or anything like ‘at, yeah? We’re gonna give it a proper go.”

Louis dares to steal another look at Nick. His face breaks into a broad smile as Louis nods. Louis giggles himself; the shot of adrenaline coursing through his veins making him feel dizzy. Nick takes his hand across the table, squeezing it tight.

It’s not quite a declaration of love, but it’s good enough for now.

++

Louis tries not to think about the fact it’s going to be a long bunch of days without Nick now. He’s not seen his nan and aunties in Doncaster for almost half a year and he hasn’t spent much quality time with _anyone_ in his family recently, so he tells himself to stop whining and make the most of this family time.

He and Nick have made their semi-declarations to each other now - which is a step, a Big Step - and that will be enough to tide him over, it has to be.

His mum clings to him like she hasn’t seen him for years. Jay and the girls have been up here since the previous day so when he arrives at his nans house it’s with trepidation at a houseful of women that truly he’s been neglecting.

His nan’s house is the only place left in Doncaster that feels anything like home; they’ve been gone for so long that his home now is with his boys and Nick. Her furniture hasn’t changed since Louis was about three; the only thing that’s evolved in those twenty three years is the pictures of the grandkids on the walls.

His nan has socks and pants and a gift set wrapped up for him for his birthday, and he gets cards with money in and a £100 gift card to Topman from his mum. He tells her off for overspending as he hugs her again, as tight as he can. They have chocolate caterpillar cake and Lottie, Fizzy and the twins all roll their eyes at him as they’re forced to sing Happy Birthday.

“This day is about Lou, not you lot!” Jay tells the girls off, and for good measure Louis pokes out his tongue at them all.

++

His nans place is a five bed house which is useful at times like these. The twins go to bed first, but only just before eleven. Louis kisses his nans’ cheek goodnight at about half past eleven, but Fizzy and Lottie wait it out a lot longer; it’s almost one thirty by the time it’s just him and his mum sat up in the living room, drinking Bailey’s and letting every single bit of information regarding Nick he’s been holding onto out into the open.

He goes through it all, his chest feeling less and less compressed with each word, he feels like inspirational music should be swelling up in the background, but all his mum says is, “Do you have a picture?”

His mind officially blows. “Mum, is that really all you’ve got to say!?”

Jay just shrugs, taking a sip of her creamy drink. “It’s not as big a deal as you make it out to be, Loubear. You’ve got nothing to embarrassed about, you’ve got no reason to feel less deserving of someone’s love - in fact, I think you of all people deserve it the most. You’ve got a big, kind heart and that shouldn’t be wasted.”

“But-”

“No buts, Louis, you’re beautiful and lovely, darling, don’t sell yourself short, ever. If the two of you are happy and want to make a go of things then I can think of no reason why you shouldn’t.”

“It’s not that easy mum, I… I’m not ashamed but at the same time I’m nervous. It makes me feel sick.”

Jay sighs, setting down her tumbler and folding her arms. She looks at him carefully.

“Louis, I know you’re gonna hate me for doing this, but really I just want you to think about the fact that you never know what is around the corner. You can sit and think about things and twist them until you’re blue in the face and then miss a chance at happiness, or you can just go for it. Life’s too short. We all know that too well.”

“Mum,” He protests, his tummy immediately knotting up and making him nauseous. Suddenly he doesn’t want his drink anymore.

“I’m sorry, Loubear, but it’s true. You know that right?” She says, and he nods reluctantly. “Do you like Nick?” He nods again. “Does Nick like you?” He hesitates but nods _again._ “Tell me more about him, love?”

He sighs as he gears up to list all the things he can think of about Nick. “He’s tall, taller than me-” She gives him a funny look, stifles a giggle. “Shurrup – he’s from Manchester. Talks _a lot_ about stupid random crap all the time, but he _is_ funny. He’s thirty two, he’s uh, this is a bit weird but he’s actually Harry’s boss at HMV.”

“Oh okay,” Jay nods, looking only a smidgen surprised. “Well that’s okay; you’re not kids anymore are you? Harry isn’t funny about it is he? Jealous?”

Louis bites his lip sheepishly as he pulls himself out of his mum’s watchful stare. “Harry doesn’t know yet.”

“Oh Louis!” Jay reaches over and smacks his leg lightly. “Does _anyone_ know?”

“Apart from you?” He says nervously. “No.”

“Oh you! My silly, ridiculous, lovely boy. What am I gonna do with you, eh?”

“We’re just getting started, and it’s been- well, this is all new. I saw him today before I left. We talked, we’re seeing how things go. I just… I don’t know how to have a boyfriend – how to _be_ a boyfriend. God, that sounds weird just saying it.”

Jay chuckles bemusedly. “I’m sure you won’t have any problems, Lou.”

 _Such a mum thing to say,_ Louis thinks to himself. “What if we mess up?” He asks, unable to buy into her optimism.

“Then so be it,” Jay says, as if it’s so easy. “What if you _don’t_ mess it up, though?”

He blushes as he smiles, against his better judgement. “I suppose…”

“Obviously, no man is worth getting your heart broken for. Do as I say and not as I do, I think is applicable here. But I don’t think that slim chance of failure is worth not even trying, love.”

His mum’s words resonate with him later that night as he lies in bed trying not to wake the house with his coughing, sharing sporadic messages with both Harry and with Nick. They’re not together though; Harry’s in Cheshire with his mum and stepdad and Nick arrived in Manchester at just half past eleven that evening via three different coaches because he hadn’t thought ahead to book a train ticket in time.

Louis’ still thinking about what she’d said long into the next day, long after they’ve had their stockings and bacon sarnies for breakfast, delicious Christmas dinner and presents in nans living room. He watches his sisters with watery eyed pride as the twins cling to Jay and Lottie and Fizzy keep close.

The last few years had been tough for him, but that was nothing compared to how the girls had coped. And they had _coped;_ especially Fizzy. She was a lot more mature than her sixteen years, and that had all been down to the time when their mum had been ill. She’d researched the illness, signed up to charity events and fundraisers, she’d kept the twins occupied and most importantly, kept smiles on everyone’s faces when all they wanted to do was keel over.

Later on, with bellies full and the twins _still_ bragging about getting a glass of Prosecco with dinner, they settle down to watch Stuart Little on ITV2+1. It’s been a busy day full of laughter and jokes and good food and drink, his aunties have been and gone and it really has been the quality family time that he craved.

His phone illuminates every few seconds with messages left and right, Christmas wishes on social medias that he no longer uses and festive season special offers from Domino’s that turn his stomach at the very thought.

Interspersed between all that rubbish, though, are the messages between him and Nick. He is well aware of his mum’s eye on him almost at all times, and he realises then that it probably won’t be long before all of his sisters know about Nick, via their mum.

Boxing Day is a casual affair. The girls go off to spend a few hours with their dad and his girlfriend. Louis gladly sits that one out; he and Mark have healed a lot of the burned bridges over the years, especially when Jay was ill, but he stays behind and helps his nan out with a bit of tidying up all the same.

By the next day, he’s got no clue what day it is anymore - but it’s the twenty seventh, Wednesday, if that matters. His cold is finally starting to get better and he’s headed back home tomorrow; in some ways these few days have flown by but also it feels like he just arrived.

“How’s that job of yours, Louis love, how’s it coming along?” Nan asks him; they discussed this briefly on Christmas Eve already.

“It’s going good, nan,” He smiles encouragingly. “The kids are all lovely, it’s very rewarding.”

It’s a text book Good Answer, and she smiles accordingly. “How old are the children again?”

“It’s Reception class, they’re four turning five.”

“Oh, how wonderful. It only seems like last year that was you! Now look at you! All grown up!”

“Yep!” He sighs deeply. “Time flies, hey?”

++

After a cramped, noisy car journey back from Doncaster, Louis is relieved to be home in the tranquillity and peace of his room by Thursday afternoon. Christmas already feels like a million years ago and the sad tree in the living room looks wrong now.

He loves his sisters and mum, of course, but they can all individually and collectively talk the hind legs off donkeys, and so his head is spinning and ears ringing now as a result.

He flings himself onto his bed, grateful to his past self for deciding to tidy up a bit and make the bed. It feels good to breathe in a lungful of familiar washing powder and smush his face into his own pillows; his nans house is full of memories, of course, but as he’s already come to realise, this place is his real home.

Not too much later, he hears a small knock at the door. “Lou? Can I come in?” Harry’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Louis’ heart lurches, happy at the prospect of seeing his best friend again. He shouts through to him to come in, rolling over onto his back as Harry pushes the door open and peers around it cautiously.

“Hey gorgeous,” Harry greets him easily, smiling broadly. “I thought I heard you get back.”

“Yep, got in about ten minutes ago.” Louis replies. “Come for a cuddle?”

He pats the mattress and holds his arm out for Harry to slip into. ”How was your Christmas?”

Harry tells of a quaint little Cheshire Christmas, full of peace and walking his stepdad’s dog Benson through frosty fields on Boxing Day morning. Louis’ only half jealous. Harry seems to be in awe of his own tales of randomness and vivacity, too.

Harry sighs wistfully and huddles in a bit closer as the conversation dies down. They can lay there together, though, cuddled up close with their legs twisted together in complete silence and it not mean a thing. Harry _does_ seem distant, though, like something is troubling him.

“What’s up, Haz?” Louis asks eventually. He squeezes Harry’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Nothing,” He says initially, but then he becomes ponderous. “Well, I think Nick’s got someone, like… a boyfriend or summat?”

Louis’ palms immediately go itchy and clammy. “Oh?” He squeaks.

“Yeah. He’s stopped sharin’ the bed with me,” Harry tells him. That is certainly news to Louis and he has to try hard not to show how affected he is. “I haven’t seen him flirt with a customer in _ages_ . He’s not so much as looked at _anyone_ while we’ve been out.”

Louis’ heart is beating so fast he can hardly breathe. “What- what’re you telling me for?” He chokes out.

Harry laughs, is probably rolling his eyes too. “I know he’s a pain in the arse, you hate him, sorry.”

“I don’t hate him,” Louis amends quickly. “I mean, what makes you think that? Has he said something?”

Harry shakes his head. “Just fancied a bit of a gossip, y’know? The others don’t really care, do they?”

Louis smiles and shakes his head softly. “No, I suppose they don’t.”

“Except Niall,” Harry says, at the same time Louis says, “Maybe Niall?”

They both laugh, and the air feels a bit clearer. They talk idly about Nick’s suspected new boyfriend, Harry wondering who it is and if it’s serious and when Nick will finally let something slip, all the while Louis brushes his shoulder absent-mindedly and tries to come up with neutral answers.

 _I’m falling in love with your best friend_ runs through his head on a loop as they return to that same easy silence, curled up together in Louis’ bed.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

[Tumblr!](http://yourpricelessadvice.tumblr.com/post/170349432584)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really happy with this chapter, I would love to hear your thoughts! Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I abandoned this in January and avoided it through all of February and half of March. I came back to it initially reluctantly because it drove me mad seeing an incomplete fic on my works list, but as I started to begrudgingly edit, I remembered how in love with this fic and verse and characters I was. So I stuck it out and I adore it again. I’m sad it’s all already written and is almost over! I hope anyone that reads enjoys, I’d love to hear from you, even if it’s just a few words!
> 
> Thank you x

It’s a delicate three days or so that follow.

They arrive home from their Christmases incrementally; Louis and Harry then Niall then Zayn and finally Liam. And with Liam’s arrival home comes a horrible realisation: he’s had his heart broken.

None of them had even known he was seeing anyone, not even Zayn. Turns out, Liam had met this girl in the summer and they’d been on and off since then; apparently him more on and her more off. For Christmas he’d bought her a white gold droplet necklace, but earlier on that day she’d returned it to him with tears in her eyes and told him that they couldn’t be together.

The look on Liam’s face and the tragic, tragic story of his rebuff is heartbreaking, because Liam is a genuinely good, kind person with his heart in the right place but he always wants to give it to the wrong people. Louis’ half way through thinking to himself that stories like this are exactly why he _doesn’t_ get involved with anyone, and then he realises. He _is_ involved with someone, quite spectacularly too.

He has Nick; the one he wants when he’s had a shit day, the one he wants to tell all his little anecdotes about his kids to. Somehow, Nick’s even become the one he thinks of when he hears a love song on the radio – Louis continues to curse Ed Sheeran and his stupid relatable lyrics.

Blinking those thoughts away he remembers Liam. Liam is the one in need here. He zones back in; Liam has slumped down the sofa, elbow propping him up on the armrest and head in his hand. He gazes forlornly at the floor, looking vacant and sad.

“Sorry mate. That’s really shit.”

“It’s all right, Payno, there’s someone out there for you. And while you’re looking for them, you just have some fun, right? Enjoy life.”

“Guess I should take a leaf outta your book, right?” Liam says with a small splutter of laughter that sounds like it took all his might. “Mr Single and Loving it.”

Louis laughs awkwardly; he can barely muster up a chuckle himself. “Yeah, exactly.”

So that’s how his New Year’s Eve  plans become watching Big Fat Quiz of the Year over a few beers and a Chinese with Liam. He texts Nick to explain, not swelling on the fact he’s going to miss him this evening.

_‘Liam’s been dumped, not up for a night out so staying in with him. Sorry love. Was looking forward to finally seeing you again xx’_

_‘That’s ok, will miss u tonight tho. Who am I gna kiss at midnight now? xx’_

Louis knows he’s joking, possibly fishing for a compliment, but his heart aches in his chest and his fingers long to be able to reach out and just hold Nick, so his reply is something far less jovial and light than he would’ve ever thought.

_‘Hopefully no one xxxx’_

_‘I promise lou x’_

Nick sends a yellow heart emoji to go with the message, and Louis has to bite the inside of his cheek and swallow hard to stop himself gushing. His heart thumps in his chest as he locks his phone screen and turns back to Liam, determined to try and turn things around for his friend.

++

The melancholy continues throughout the next couple of days. The other four are all horribly hungover on New Year’s Day and from the sounds of his sporadic text messages, so is Nick. Things around the house are all a bit flat and a bit anticlimactic.

Louis’ first day back at school officially kills him, and sitting in the corner of the sofa eating Niall’s spaghetti Bolognese on Tuesday evening, Louis’ eyes are drooping and dry.

“Aw bless,” Liam says softly, and Louis’ head jerks up at the sound. He would smack Liam for his troubles but it’s actually nice to see the poor lad crack a joke and a smile, so he lets it slide with a glance in Liam’s direction that says everything he needs it to.

He settles his plate safely on the coffee table. “I’m gonna go and take my eyes out, they’re hurting.”

“Okay bud,” Liam brushes his fingers over Louis’ arm as he passes by.

++

It’s four days into the new year by the time their schedules align again and Louis can see Nick. He’s buzzing with anticipation and nerves all day at school, Perrie worming her way into his thoughts and demanding to know why he’s so distractible.

They talk about the night out for his birthday; he leaves out the embarrassing stuff that happened later on in the night. Perrie assures him that she thinks Nick seemed nice, that he seems good and yes, she does think they’ll be okay. He doesn’t reveal to her just how far he has quickly fallen for Nick, that’s a bombshell for another day.

Nick’s had the day off so is at his flat waiting when Louis finishes work. The bus seems to be twice as busy and twice as slow as usual as it trundles its way through the A-roads towards the town centre. The vast majority disembark in the town centre to catch their connecting buses, but a load more people get on in their place, and Louis finds himself pushed up against a wiry haired lady in a knee length puffer jacket.

“Sorry, ‘scuse me, love,” He presses the bell firmly as the stop approaches, and she swivels in her seat so he has to awkwardly climb past her and try not to smack her in the face with his bag.

He almost breaks into a run as he crosses the road and heads down Nick’s street, half with anticipation and half because it’s so damn cold. He’s not expecting to see Nick outside waiting for him on the step like last time, but he’s a little bit disappointed all the same when he’s not.

He buzzes frantically, holding his finger down for three short pulses then a longer one that he can hear shrieking through the door. He smirks to himself as Nick buzzes him up without even saying anything.

Nick’s waiting at the door as he jogs up the stairs, he can smell the inviting scent of home and Nick before he can even see him. He’s in his misshapen ripped skinnies and his jumper comes right down over his hips, the sleeves equally as oversized.

“Hello stranger,” Nick says with a broad grin as Louis steps onto the landing. “Cold out? Had a fun day working?”

Louis rolls his eyes and reaches up, presses his freezing cold red hands against Nick’s warm, pale skin, confirming for him that yes, it is cold out.

“Urgh, your hands are freezing, gerroff!” Nick yelps. “I’ve had the heating on in anticipation of your arrival. Isn’t that nice of me?”

Louis smiles fondly and takes his cold hand off the back of Nick’s neck. “So selfless.”

“C’mere you little sod,” Nick says, reaching out and pulling Louis inside the flat by the edges of his coat.

They just hug, Nick holds him so tight and so close it’s like he never wants to let go. And Louis doesn’t want him to. Nick rocks ever so slightly from side to side on his feet, and Louis clings to him blindly as they sway. All they need is a love song to start tinkling away in the background. Where is bloody Ed Sheeran now Louis actually wants him?

They move into the living room, taking up their usual positions on Nick’s sofa under the fleece blanket. Louis shoves his hands under Nick’s sides to warm them up. He cranes his neck to look up at Nick, who pulls off an equally awkward angle to look back at him. He leans in and pecks Louis’ lips opportunistically.

“So I had a chat with Harry the night I got back from Donny.” Louis says as they separate.

“Oh?” Nick raises his eyebrows. “A _chat_ chat, or just a chat?”

“A half chat,” Louis decides on after a moment’s hesitation. “He told me he reckons you’ve ‘got someone’.”

“Oh?” Nick says again with a quizzical smile.

“Yeah, and that, uh, that you’ve stopped flirtin’. You don’t look at anyone when you go out.”

Now it's Nick’s turn to be embarrassed, apparently. His cheeks go red and it’s pretty adorable, if Louis is being objective. With a wry smile, Nick nods acceptingly and looks down at something as he says, “Well, he’s not wrong is he?”

Butterflies run amok in Louis’ tummy, fluttering up to his heart and making the whole cavity feel light and flickery.

“That night you were all at the pub, November payday? That was the last time I shared a bed with Harry.”

“Really?” Louis asks, his voice a mere whisper.

Nick nods. “It’s not as if there was anythin’ ever going on between me and ‘im, never has been, but it just started feeling… weird, I guess. Like, I shouldn’t be doing that to you.”

“Really?” He chokes out again, clearly unable to find any other words. Nick laughs softly at him.

“Yes, really.” Nick pauses again, reaching down to pick at the hem of his t-shirt. He twists it around the tip of his index finger. “I missed you over Christmas, Lou. Eleven days is far too long.”

Louis doesn’t even need to clarify that that’s how long it’s been because he’s been counting the days himself, congratulating himself for getting through each one. He wants to ask Nick what’s going to happen now? They’ve agreed they’re exclusive, and they’re clearly both of the opinion that long gaps between seeing each other and having to be discreet isn’t that enjoyable anymore; but for all of his confidence Nick seemingly isn’t pushing for them to come clean and Louis’ head and heart say two different things.

He doesn’t bring it up again, because something else is apparently up, and it’s him. He’s been trying to keep it down for the last ten minutes or so as they’ve been lying wrapped around each other under the fleece, but somehow he ends up astride Nick’s lap with his t-shirt off and his hair a mess from Nick’s hands.

“Can I… I want to make you feel good, Lou, if you’ll let me?”

Nick’s eyes are sincere yet hazy as he speaks; he awaits Louis’ answer patiently, stopping what he was doing entirely until he’s got permission. Louis’ heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest.

His lips are pink and bruised from Nick’s kisses, his skin on fire but also goosebumpy. He just nods, because he doesn’t trust his words at this point.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He manages to murmur.

Louis shifts where he’s still sat atop Nick’s legs. Nick goes back to touching him, softly and cautiously. He traces a pattern through the thin trail of hair down Louis’ chest, over his belly button and down to where the top button of his jeans is digging into his belly. He sucks his tummy in instinctively as Nick fiddles.

“S’okay?” Nick asks as the button un-pops. He nods again and Nick doesn’t look up to see him do it, but he acknowledges it by shifting underneath, gripping Louis’ hips and guiding him up. Louis rises to standing and Nick leans forward, he pulls down the zip carefully and loosens the two materials that rustle against each other.

Nick stands up too, springing up just with the strength in his legs, and wraps one arm around Louis’ bare lower back, the other firmly lifting his chin up to bring them together in a crashing kiss. Nick licks into his mouth as he turns them and guides him backwards, back towards the sofa. He keeps his arms around Louis but uses the other for support as he drops onto his knee on the sofa cushion and lies Louis down. He keeps their bodies flush and their kiss continues the entire time, breaking only to shift an errant cushion and to begin kissing down Louis’ neck.

Louis peers down at Nick as he goes, dropping little kisses down the column of his neck, onto the sharp point of his collarbones.

“Gorgeous,” Nick murmurs to himself against Louis’ skin, his breath red hot. Louis can’t help but squirm a bit under the constant idolisation, but Nick seems to sense that and his hands flatten and smooth their way over his skin, his steady touch calming Louis down.

Nick reaches for Louis’ jeans, pulling at the two parted edges of material and exposing the black Calvin’s beneath.

“It okay to do this?” Nick asks, pausing.

“Yeah,” Louis’ breathing is so heavy now. “S’fine. Please.”

Nick coaxes him to lift his bum up, which he does. Nick pulls down his jeans and then his boxers. Louis closes his eyes against the flash of embarrassment as his cock, hard against his hip, bobs up as it’s released.

Nick discards the items, Louis doesn’t even see where. He rests his hands on Louis’ thighs, parts his legs carefully and drops to his knees. He positions himself between Louis’ legs. Louis throws his head back and closes his eyes once again as he feels Nick take a hold of his cock. His soul metaphorically - and probably literally - _leaves_ his body as he feels Nick lick a bold stripe up the underside of his cock from base to tip. He cups the other side of it in his hand lightly as he goes for another lick up the other side.

Nick’s not even bloody started properly yet and Louis feels like he’s moments away from exploding. He focuses the last bit of his energy on _calming down_ but then proceeds to absolutely lose it anyway as Nick, now on his third lick, carries on going once he’s at the top, flicking his tongue over the still-concealed head and then closing his mouth around him and down he goes.

Nick keeps a hand around the base and moves it in sync with his hand. Louis’ hips stutter uncontrollably with the shockwaves of pleasure that truthfully he’d forgotten about and had been quite unprepared for. In the back of his head Louis pre-panics at the assumption that he’s going to be able to do this for Nick as expertly as Nick is doing it for him.

“Lou?” Nick's voice and the sudden absence of warmth around his cock brings Louis' attention back to the here and now. “Y’okay, love?”

His whole body tenses with embarrassment; he’s not sure what he might’ve mumbled out loud by accident. He nods furiously, willing this moment back on track because it’s been actual _years_ and he deserves this. “Yeah, fine.”

“Tell me if you wanna slow down, okay?” Nick says again.

He nods profusely, now past the point of being shy and into territory where his body is so highly charged and eager that it’s almost shameful. Nick makes an approving noise and then rolls back down Louis’ body, taking his cock back into his mouth. Pure bliss peals out of Louis as Nick goes, and goes.

Because _oh!_ Nick can deep throat, very well indeed. With no effort at all his nose nudges against the skin around the base of Louis’ cock, through the sparse trimmed hair. The tip of his nose is cold but Louis doesn’t notice. Nick glides back up, tongue pressed flat against the underside. He flicks over the head on the way back down again, around the ridge of fleshy pink sensitive spots.

Louis’ orgasm creeps up on him _very_ fast, faster than he’d have liked but it feels so good and it’s been so long.

“I’m, oh-” His hand flies out and he clamps down firmly on Nick’s shoulder, all the warning he can muster. Nick keeps going, makes an acknowledging noise in the back of his throat which reverberates down Louis’ shaft. He sees white and stars as he comes; Nick sinks right down to the base and the leaking head of Louis’ cock hits the back of his throat.

The tingle reaches Louis’ toes as he comes; the best, most freeing release of this sort that he’s felt in years. Nick hums agreeably around him as he swallows it all down, and when he comes back up for air finally, he lets Louis’ hypersensitive, pearly-slick head sit between his pink, plump lips.

Louis braves a look down at the sight just at the moment that Nick lets the head fall from his lips. His cock bounces against his tummy once, leaving behind a bead of shimmery fluid, and begins to soften between their bodies as Nick lifts off his knees and leans over Louis, one hand pressed into the sofa cushion and the other on the top of the back of the sofa.

He tastes himself on Nick’s fleeting kiss and lifts his head up off the arm of the sofa to get closer to Nick. He surprises himself at how unbothered is to be prone and vulnerable like this, completely naked in front of another human being.

He pulls himself back into his jeans while Nick is in the other room, and he’s scrambling about trying to locate his t-shirt when Nick comes back with teas for them both.

He finds it under the sofa and pulls it quickly over his head. He pulls at the hem awkwardly as Nick sits down on the sofa, pulling the fleece blanket down off the back and wafting it over his legs, leaving a corner free for Louis.

He sits down dutifully, covering his legs with his corner of blanket and reaching forward for his tea. He holds the mug in his hands, savouring the warmth from the porcelain.

“You okay, love?” Nick asks after several moments of scrutinising that Louis is aware of in his periphery. “Y’look like you’re gonna jump out of your skin.”

“I’m fine!” He insists with an affectionate eye-roll. He’s been doing a lot of that recently. “You don’t need to keep asking, Nick.”

Nick smiles and nods. Nick sticks the telly on but turns it right down to background noise.

“So! You’re not the only with news.” Nick says proudly, only a beat later.

Louis eyes Nick cautiously and his stomach lurches. “What’ve you done?”

Nick laughs and shifts a bit. “Nothing! I was actually at a job interview this morning, that’s why I had the day off.”

Relief floods Louis at the benign revelation. “Oh! Nice one. Harry never said. What’s it for?”

“Uh, Harry doesn’t actually know.”

Louis stomach tumbles to the pits of his body as Nick continues to talk. There it is.

“It’s for a sound engineering company, the head office. Lots more on the business side, managerial but it’s a step closer to the industry I actually wanna be in, so…”

“Head office?” Louis repeats. “That sounds official. That sounds like it’s not based round ‘ere.”

“No, it’s in Manchester.”

The panic is slowly building up inside. “Manchester?”

“Yeah. It’s only fifteen minutes by train, as you know. It won’t be so bad. Plus I know the area well; it’s close to mum-”

“Are you saying you’re moving back there?” Louis interrupts. “I mean, if you got it?”

“No no, of course not. It’s only a small train journey, and it’s over _seven_ grand a year more than HMV. I’d be mad not to go for it if I was offered it.”

Louis appreciates all of what Nick is saying but he can’t register any of it as positive. Six months ago, what Nick did with his life would’ve been no concern of Louis’, but now it is. The overriding thing is the secrets from Harry. Now he has not one but two secrets he’s keeping from his best friend, both coincidentally involving Nick.

“It’s not gonna affect us, Lou.” Nick says, and Louis risks looking back at Nick. He feels like he’s drowning in his eyes, in the words that are coming. “I don’t want it to change anything between us, you know how I feel and this doesn’t affect that.”

“Okay,” He replies quietly. “Are you going to tell Harry though?”

“Why’re you askin’ about him again?” Nick demands, a little snappily.

“I just don’t like keeping so many things from him.”

Nick gives him an odd look, and it feels like he’s slowly losing grip on the situation. “I will if I get it. No point in upsetting the apple cart is there? Plus, I don’t want work finding out if they don’t need to.”

Louis nods. “Okay.”

Neither of them says anything for a while, and Louis drags his eyes away from Nick’s. Suddenly the moment feels really heavy, the air thick, and he can’t remember why he was looking forward to coming here in the first place.

Nick holds onto him extra tight when he leaves. He mumbles a soft apology into Louis’ neck and Louis can’t help but feel like Nick shouldn’t be the one apologising, but he doesn’t think it should be him either. He leaves feeling more confused and uncertain than ever before.

++

Another week passes. Nick still texts and he comes back with Harry on Tuesday after work. It sort of feels the same, but different. Or more accurately, sometimes it feels different and sometimes it feels the same. On the twelfth - a Friday, handily - is Zayn’s birthday. That is a Same day.

Work is work. It’s raining when he finishes. Later he sits at the kitchen table gloomily eating a bag of Doritos before hauling himself into the shower, ignoring the fact that it’s been all day since he’s heard from a certain someone. He wonders briefly when he became the person so consumed by another that a simple text message - or lack of - is all it takes to ruin his day.

By the time he’s out of the shower it’s getting on for seven and the rest of his housemates are home, Harry curiously without Nick.

“Where’s Nick?” Louis asks him, unable to get up enough energy to worry about being so direct.

“Working late, s’gonna meet me there.”

Louis nods, ignoring the ‘me’. He reminds himself that Harry doesn't know. That it’s his wish that Harry doesn't know. He nods disinterestedly and looks away from Harry before he can ask any more questions.

As per usual, in the spirit of it being a Same day, they go for pre-drinks at Niall’s pub and Nick arrives somewhere along the line; at the end of his shift Niall changes out of his uniform in the staff toilets then they taxi into town.

Nick steals the few moments when everyone else is milling around and general chaos is ensuing to pull Louis to one side in the disabled toilets.

“This is gettin’ to be a regular thing this, meeting in disabled loos.” Nick remarks, trying to inject a bit of lightness and humour, but Louis feels petulant.

He nods pensively. “Sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Nick replies softly. “How are you? Miss you.”

Louis shrugs but he gives it up. “I’m okay.” _I miss you too,_ he wants to say but doesn't. _Miss you so much it hurts._ Instead he asks, “Are you all right?”

Nick nods. “I am now I’m wi’ you. Been a long week. Lou?” Louis looks up as Nick reaches out for him, tries to coax his attention back. “Lou, I’m sorry. I dunno really what I’m sorry _for_ but whatever it is, I take the blame for it. I just want to see you smiling again, okay? Can you do that? At least just for tonight.”

Louis bites down on the inside of his cheeks as he tries not to smile, just to spite Nick, but he can’t help it. He rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath as Nick does a stupid victory jig and pulls him in for a kiss.

Nick tastes bitter like the beer that Harry had thrust into his hand as soon as he’d arrived, but also like the chewing gum he must’ve been chewing on his way over. His clothes are that familiar blend of washing powder and curls of cigarette smoke that should absolutely not be as nice as it is.

“Can you stay tonight? Just- don’t wanna let you go again.”

“How am I gonna get away with that?”

“I dunno, just pretend you’ve pulled or summat?”

Louis snorts. “Like they’d believe that!”

“Please?”

Louis is torn; he really, _really_ does want to stay over at Nick’s, make up for all the lost time. With a determined sigh, he says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

++

It starts off like a bit of a game; thrill seeking supported by several shots of vodka. It’s busy and dark inside the club and after the first time being a fluke, they try it again; try seeing how close they can get without anyone noticing.

There’s prolonged periods of time where Niall and/or Harry are missing, and aside from Liam checking in with him every once in a while, Louis is largely left to his own devices. Nick’s hand rests in the small of his back in the throngs of people on the dance floor, and when they shimmy their way through the crowds towards the smoking area Nick holds his hand and weaves their way through.

By the time they emerge outside they’ve dropped hands, but Louis can still feel Nick’s touch. He watches Nick pull a ready rolled cigarette out of that battered old tinny he carries around with him. He blushes under Nick’s gaze as the others are chatting and laughing and joking and not even picking up on what’s going on across the small space.

His heart thumps in his chest hard and fast as Nick gets close, too close to explain away. Nick makes a show of looking around the space, his eyebrows raised and a stupid, suggestive grin on his face as he slowly turns back to face Louis.

“Nick, what’re you-” He murmurs under his breath but it’s eaten by the heavy bass and the brush of Nick’s lips on the high point of his cheek.

“Don’t worry, Lou,” He says as he’s close, but then he retreats, leaving Louis’ cheek tingling from the brush of his lips.

Nobody bats an eyelid and none of the lads seem to be anywhere remotely close, until the familiar, expensive whiff of Zayn’s aftershave floats into Louis’ senses. He sees his friend careering towards him with a ‘birthday girl’ sash over his body and an empty glass.

Zayn is bleary eyed and smiling wide, cheering when he sees Louis. He indulges Zayn, slapping his back firmly in a hug and letting Zayn shuffle him around uncoordinatedly and call it dancing.

Nick’s there again, when the whole group returns to each other. He dances ridiculously with Harry; Louis can’t help the way he watches them, laughing openly.

“Lou!” Harry gestures him over to join in, shouting his name over and over against the pound of the rhythm. Louis holds his hands up in attempted protest, but Harry breaks away from Nick and stalks over to him.

“No!” Louis protests a final time before Harry scoops him into his arms and cajoles him into dancing. With their hands gripped together tightly, Harry leads them in a stupid grandad-style shuffle, legs kicking outwards and arms in the air.

The song switches from an erratic, jumpy beat to a heavy, dirty bass line that stutters and draws itself out, and Harry pulls him close and grind against him, his hips moving with the filthy baseline.

This isn't the first time they’ve done this; the cover of darkness and the security of his best friend close to him makes him feel secure enough in himself to do this with Harry, but then he hears Harry laugh and he’s looking away over Louis’ shoulder, at Nick.

Nick’s got one arm crossed over his body defensively and he’s got his drink held up by his face, resting his chin on the rim of the glass. He’s laughing softly at them, and when Louis looks over his shoulder and meets his eyes, it’s like electricity.

Harry’s encouraging Nick over and Nick is approaching. Harry’s _right_ there, and Nick is coming towards him, his hand is touching Louis’ side.

“You make a hot couple!” Nick shouts over the music, and Harry cackles. While Harry is busy laughing, Nick’s hand swirls its way around Louis’ back to the other side, his fingers giving Louis’ swell of skin a reassuring pinch.

He makes the signal for ‘going for a smoke’ and looks towards the exit, asking Louis to come along. Louis finds himself not even hesitating; he turns back and gives Harry an apologetic look. Harry just smiles, pats him on the arm solidly and shimmies off into the crowd.

He slips his hand around Nick’s side and Nick presses his own palm flat against Louis’ fingers, keeping it in place as they slink through the crowds with their heads down.

Though he was here not half an hour ago, the relative quiet of the smoking area and the easier air feels like such heaven. Nick heads right to the corner by the door, where no one tends to frequent because it’s next to the electricity generator.

“Cig?” Nick asks shortly. Louis shakes his head and watches Nick sparks up without further questioning. He inhales deeply and pulls a face as he exhales an erratic cloud of smoke and speakers simultaneously. “People look at you. I don't think you even notice it, but they do.” He points with his cigarette, it’s really quite something. “With Harry or Zayn or just on your own. Makes me feel funny,” He touches his hand to the middle of his chest. “Here.”

“What?” Louis rasps, tugging on the sleeves of his black shirt.

“Jealousy, probably? I dunno.” He shrugs. “Makes me fancy you even more.”

Louis has to snort at Nick’s use of ‘fancy’. “Fancy me, do you?”

Nick nods solemnly, but then he shares a grin too. “Wanna kiss you, Lou.”

Louis glances down at the floor, rocks back on his heels and then chances a glance over his shoulder. He can’t see anyone. He turns back, Nick’s just taken a pull, perfect timing. He steps forward half a step, lifts up onto his toes and reaches up to wrap his hand around Nick’s neck. He brings him in and kisses him, pressing their lips together firmly and then deepening the kiss just a degree.

When he pulls away from Nick, comes back down to earth and starts breathing again, he feels like he could take on the world.

“You,” He says with a happy laugh. “Are makin’ me do things I’ve never done before!”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Nick questions. He drops the ‘th’ in favour of a f-sound. He takes another pull and then holds out the smoke for Louis, who takes a drag and passes it back again.

“Yeah, a good thing.” He confirms.

“You’ll come back tonight, right?”

Louis nods because he does want to, of course he does, but at the same time he just doesn't know how easy it will be to get away with.

“You could just tell them you’re going home with me. They’re all so drunk they'd probably not even bat an eyelid, and come morning they’ll’ve forgotten anyway.” Nick gets shriller and shriller as he goes, shrugging effortlessly at the end of his speech to illustrate his point.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Perfect plan.”

Nick looks hopeful but not all together completely convinced, and Louis can’t pretend that he’s not justified.

“I wanna. I do want to. Come back with you.”

Nick finishes his smoke and then they head back inside, running straight into Niall and Liam alongside some girls in small dresses. Niall shouts something to them over the music but Louis doesn't catch it. Nick seems to be scanning the room looking for someone. He moves back towards Nick and slips his hand around his waist in the dark, Niall and Liam a distant memory. It’s too dark to see much apart from the clap of neon green that comes with each strobe light.

 _Are you okay,_ he asks by way of the touch. Nick brings his focus back in to Louis, holding him static in that moment. Louis thinks for a moment he’s going to kiss him again, actually wishes he would, but Nick doesn’t. He keeps his hand on Nick’s side, testing the boundaries a little bit. How crazy is it the effect Nick has on him.

Nick gives him a reassuring half-smile and a nod. He looks away, his smile broadens and Louis looks over his shoulder to see Harry approaching. Instinctively he steps away from Nick and drops his hands back to his sides, rubbing his clammy palms down his jeans.

“All right?!” Harry yells over the music; pink cheeked and bleary eyed. He looks so happy. Louis nods, smiling broadly too. Harry makes a signal for drink but Louis stops him, patting his chest to indicate responsibility.

He feels Nick’s fingers loop casually around his wrist as he makes his way to the bar.

++

Their getaway is actually remarkably easy in the end. Nick runs through the poorly planned plan once with him while they’re at the bar, and it’s simply the Dutch courage swimming about in his bloodstream that gives Louis the confidence to pull Zayn to one side and tell him he’s ducking out early. Zayn understands, a rare moment of clarity in an otherwise very drunken evening, and Louis feels a margin of guilt for lying. He asks Zayn to make sure Harry gets home safely and doesn’t drink too much more.

Nick appears over his shoulder suddenly, and the plan starts to roll into its second phase.

“Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear!” He throws himself at Zayn, hanging off his shoulders and aiming himself at Louis. “If you’re heading out I’ll jump in the taxi with you, mate, if that’s all right?”

Louis stares back at him, nodding blindly. “Fine!” He shouts over the music. Zayn isn’t suspicious at all.

Nick shares a look with Louis a moment later that suggests he’s really proud of himself, a certain smugness that his insistence it would be easy is proving correct. “I’m over thirty, I can’t stay out past half one!”

Harry hugs them both, apparently oblivious to anything amiss too, and again Louis has to consider the fact that maybe there is no big scandal here, maybe the only person making a big deal out of this is him.

They find a taxi lingering in the taxi rank just down the street from the club and Nick presses on ahead, leaning in at the window and rolling his hips unsteadily as he peers in and questions the availability.

They clamber in, Nick first and shuffling across the chilly leather rather ungracefully, bum in the air. Louis follows him in and clunks the door closed, politely greeting the driver and confirming Nick’s address for him, which feels weird but good all the same.

“Told you it would be okay,” Nick says softly to him as the taxi pulls out of town and the bright reds and yellows and greens of the clubs and takeaways fade to the occasional passing of an orange street lamp.

“Yeah, ‘mate’, though?” Louis quotes incredulously. “Seriously? You’ve _never_ called me mate!”

“Shurrup you!” Nick kisses the laugh off Louis’ lips.

“You’re right proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Louis rolls his eyes. “Mr I-can-make-it-happen.”

“You just have to have faith, Lou,” Nick says, his alcohol intake having given him a philosophical outlook, apparently. “And live a little.”

++

The taxi driver drops them off at the kerb and between them they find the money to pay the astronomical fare. Nick scuffs his feet as he stumbles towards the steps, nearly giving Louis a heart attack as he vaults up the concrete steps on unsteady legs, somehow managing not to go arse over tit.

It’s freezing cold inside the flat as they burst in through the door. Nick flicks the big light on and goes straight for the thermostat. He mumbles something to himself about getting straight into bed and then turns back to Louis as he is kicking off his shoes.

“All right there, Mumbly Joe?”

Nick snorts with laughter. “Yep, perfect thanks.”

He cuts the gap between them and presses Louis up against the door in an oafish embrace. Louis staggers back with Nick up against him and brings his arms up around Nick’s body. Nick kisses him, uncoordinated and tasting like fire. They end up, as per Nick’s request, getting on the sofa under the covers off Nick’s bed. He drags the coffee table over and covers it in blankets to form an extension of the sofa.

Louis drapes his jacket over the back of a chair and joins Nick under the covers, as instructed. It’s impossibly warm and cosy under the duvet and he burrows down into Nick’s side, his arm draped casually around his shoulders. He nudges Nick’s knees apart with his foot and slots his leg between Nick’s, their feet entangled in the duvet.

“Y’know, I just realised, how am I gonna explain my absence in the morning?” He asks Nick, who puts on a pretend surprised face.

“Who said I was gonna ask you to stay the night?” He asks, but is giggling before he even finishes his sentence. “No, just say you forgot your key.”

Louis remembers Harry and the many, _many_ times he’s pulled the exact same stunt whilst drunk. It’s plausible enough.

“I told you, mister, this is a worry-free zone tonight,” Nick palms at his cheek awkwardly; Louis blinks nervously with every inch. “Get those thoughts away.”

Nick pretends to grab the thoughts away from above Louis’ head and tosses the imaginary things away. Louis has to smile; Nick is quite sweet when he’s drunk. He makes no sense, he’s gentle, he goes all pink cheeked and relaxed. They kiss languidly and prolonged; they sober up in the time that passes, pressing affectionate kisses to each other’s cheeks and making stupid jokes, saying stupid things that have no bearing on anything. Somewhere along the line Nick prompts him up into his lap. Louis can’t help but think that the whole operation would be a lot less stressful out of his skinnies.

Nick grips his hips firmly and Louis’ knees slip down in between the cracks in the sofa cushions. He rests his forehead against Nick’s, pressing down hard and going cross-eyed at him, just to make the man giggle.

“If the wind changes you’ll stay like that,” Nick whispers.

“Good thing it’s not windy in ‘ere ‘en, smart arse.” Louis replies with a grin. He leans back, blinking to reset his vision.

Nick releases his hold on Louis’ hips and brings his hands round to bunch around the hem of his t-shirt. He fiddles with the material, concentrating hard on it. His fingers occasionally brush the skin of Louis’ belly, showing obvious intent that Louis is feeling less and less able to resist.

Nick mumbles barely audibly as he slowly reaches below the material and runs a finger over the slight paunch that Louis is conscious of. Nick seems to sense this, though, because he lifts his gaze to meet Louis’ and smiles encouragingly.

“Can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” He murmurs. Louis shies away from Nick’s gaze and drops his head to look down in his lap where Nick’s hands are. “My Lou.”

The two little words send a jolt through Louis and he hums contently as Nick’s touches becomes more focussed. He runs his flattened palm over the curves of Louis’ tummy and hips, drawing attention to the areas. A trail of goosebumps follow Nick’s fingers around, then Nick takes a handful of material in each fist and pulls Louis’ t-shirt up and off.

Nick watches him closely as he sits there, perched in his lap topless and speckled with goosebumps. The urge to cover himself with his arms is overwhelming but Nick, for whatever reason, appears to be happy with what he sees. Louis follows the movement of his eyes, watches as Nick’s mouth moves with silent, unformed words.

“Nick?” He murmurs, barely more than a rasp himself.

“Lou,” Nick responds, equally as hoarsely. Nothing that they exchange has any purpose or any meaning, it’s just the way the situation is unravelling and the way they’ve chosen to navigate through it.

Nick draws him back down with a hand around the back of his neck, letting that hand trail down his body once they’re kissing again, the other hand trailing around the bottom of his back, fingers periodically dipping just below the waistband of his jeans.

He flexes his hips instinctively against Nick’s touch. He arches his back and breathes heavily against Nick’s mouth as they break apart their kiss and cling desperately to each other. Nick’s fingertips press so firmly into Louis’ skin they’re sure to leave a mark.

He makes a trail up Louis’ body and he brushes very lightly, almost ghostlike, over each nipple in turn. Louis’ almost uncomfortably hard in his jeans, restricted against the denim. Nick’s hands fall to Louis’ sides as if he senses just how overwhelmed he’s made him, and Louis lets himself slump forward against Nick. He nuzzles in close to Nick, resting his cheek on his shoulder. He presses a few kisses to Nick’s neck and Nick holds him tight.

“Wanna move to my room?” Nick asks eventually, always watching Louis’ reactions so closely. There’s so much going unsaid at this point, but it’s there in the air between them; big and bouncy and obvious.

Louis lifts his head off Nick’s shoulder. He’s been sweating all night in the club and he’s almost rigid with nerves and neither of them are anywhere _near_ as drunk as they were then. He nods but asks Nick if he can borrow the shower first; he knows he’s basically revealing his whole hand of cards at this point, but it’s what he wants and he thinks that Nick wants it too.

So, he jumps in Nick’s shower, even if it is gone three am.

++

An hour later and he’s scrubbed clean from head to toe, wearing a huge white Lacoste t-shirt of Nick’s. He’s curled up in Nick’s bed, under covers that smell like home, staring at Nick. Well, _Nick_ is staring at _Louis_.

“What!” He yelps, unable to stand it a moment longer.

“You smell like me,” Nick says, almost proudly.

“Oh, you _would_ like that wouldn’t you, you narcissist!”

He showered thoroughly, anxious expectation swirling in the pit of his stomach every second. Nick’s shower gel was herby and fresh, enough to make Louis’ eyes sting, but now in the air sits a caramely smoothness.

Nick silences him with more kisses. It’s still dark outside the window; a recently commenced rain shower pats on the window, making tracks down the foggy glass. Nick’s hand is on his hip, the waistband of his boxers pulled down. He’s growing used to Nick’s apparent obsession with lots of skin to skin contact. He grew up with Harry, for God’s sake, he’s used to a bit of touchy-feely.

He’s very aware of the soft slump of his belly at this angle, laying sideways, and the relaxed swell of his bum is even more pronounced than normal. Nick’s palm massages the left cheek and it’s something that _should_ be sending Louis into orbit with worry but he’s working to keep his breathing calm and under control and it feels _good_ , of course, as Nick presses the most delicate of kisses to his lips.

Nick doesn't move fast; almost the opposite in fact. They spend what feels like hours just kissing, gradually inching closer to each other in the bed as the rain subsides outside the window. The sky glows whitish grey with uninterrupted moonlight, making Nick look paler than ever; Louis had never noticed himself to be particularly tanned but next to Nick he’s practically bronzed.

Nick’s pale skin feels cool compared to his own that is still touch-warm from the shower. Nick’s grip gradually becomes a little more insistent and the first mumbled _Lou_ against his lips is almost illegible, but he tries again and they pull away.

Nick tells him that he wants him; every whispered word picks up Louis’ heart rate. Nick asks if that’s okay, and asks him to be honest. Louis nods, but it feels like someone else is doing it. He’s long since accepted he wants _everything_ with Nick; his desperation and his fear of doing so are in equal measure right now. It’s intense.

“I do, yeah,” He whispers, subconsciously gripping tighter around Nick’s arm. “Just… slow, yeah? It’s- it’s been…” He trails off because he knows Nick knows. He’s confident in his belief that Nick is the right person for him, now and hopefully forever.

Nick is looking at him closely, making doubly sure. He questions Louis twice more and then reaches up to smooth down his fluffy, unstyled fringe.

“Roll over, t-shirt off,” He instructs, which Louis does. Nick’s weight on top of him a moment later feels like reassurance, the t-shirt lost somewhere in the duvet.

Nick begins to kiss down his body, spending a bit of time on each nipple which has Louis writhing on the bed. He’s exponentially hard between their bodies, and Nick nudges his hard length with the jut of his jawline before guiding the head into his mouth and giving Louis a few sucks, the head straining the foreskin, before he pops off the top and away completely.

Louis’ eyes fly open and he peers up at Nick to see what's happened. Nick’s reaching over him for something in the bedside drawer; Louis isn’t virginal, he _knows_ what’s coming.

When Nick settles back down, Louis has the sudden urge to draw his knees up together, feeling exposed and raw like this. Nick places the lube and a condom down on the bed next to his knee then peers up at Louis.

“Definitely wanna do this?” He asks, tracing the old footie scar down Louis’ shin.

Louis shudders under Nick’s touch, finding the weight of his stare almost too much to bear. He nods steadfastly, swallowing the lump in his throat and reaching for the lube. It’s a small plastic tube, the blue plastic wrapper is peeling at the top and his fingers catch on it. It’s fuller than he was expecting.

He hands it to Nick with absolute false confidence. “I wanna do this.”

Nick nods, taking the bottle and mouthing an inaudible _okay._ After that, Nick doesn’t hold them up with constant questions and reassurances every five seconds, and Louis is grateful for that because it would give him too much opportunity to back out.

The apprehension that he’d built up in his head melts away as the tip of Nick’s first liberally slick finger pushes inside him. It makes his breath catch in his throat but it’s _fine_ , it’s good; so good he could cry.

He doesn't cry though. He breathes through Nick pushing the rest of the way in, the feel of his knuckles on the outside of his rim the signal that yes, he can do this.

Nick slowly works him up to the next one, unsparing with the lube. With two inside Louis feels impossibly full and they’ve not even peaked yet. Nick tries an experimental twist of his wrist as he draws his fingers out to the pad and back in again, and Louis’ mouth falls open, his chin pressed to his chest as he tries to steady the centre of his universe.

“So nice,” Nick murmurs, and Louis can’t find anything to offer up as a response but the heavy, stuttering noises that are slipping out with every movement of Nick’s digits inside him.

Nick leans back in for a kiss, stilling his fingers inside until their lips are locked again and then he begins to slowly pump; once, twice, three times. His moans into Nick’s mouth should be embarrassing but they only fuel things.

Nick makes his way back down Louis’ body with kisses once again, nuzzling the column of his neck and teasing each nipple in turn. He drags his fingers out slowly and collects the smear of lube that has gone astray down Louis’ thigh and uses that to massage softly around his hole.

“We- I...” Louis tries to communicate, but Nick has a handle on things already. His fingers slip back inside and he lifts his head, letting his hair fall down into his eyes. The other hand wraps loosely around his cock, which stands up proudly between his legs. He works himself back up to hardness deftly; his fingers resting on the underside and his thumb coming up to his slit as he works the length of the shaft steadily.

Louis’ not sure how he’s done it but Nick hasn’t made the build-up feel like things he’s just ticking off a to-do list; every brush of fingers and every kiss pressed to skin isn’t just a means to an end but a part of the experience as important as the big _finale_ , as it were.

He can’t look as Nick rolls on the condom. His own cock twitches with interest after the disappointment of the sudden emptiness he feels inside. With the realisation that this is definitely happening in maybe less than a minute, Louis feels a spurt of pre-come leak out and splodge on his tummy as he shifts on the bed.

“Like this, yeah?” Nick asks. “So I can see you. Hold you.”

Louis makes an unidentifiable noise of agreement, and he does open his eyes though he closes them again a second later as Nick raises himself up into position, the unmistakable _snap_ of a lid being closed.

Louis draws his knees up towards his chest and then tries as best he can to relax his hips and his lower back, let the tension run out of him. Nick lines himself up and pushes in slowly, the burn from the breach of the muscle far more intense than the fingers, of course, but it’s not unbearable.

Nick props himself up on one arm and gently cups Louis’ cheek, just over his jaw. He bottoms out and Louis nuzzles into Nick’s touch, feeling overcome with emotions already.

Nick watches him closely; Louis takes a deep breath and nods hurriedly. Louis feels the drag of Nick drawing his hips back and then he presses in again, still gentle as he goes.

Louis’ breath catches in his chest with how close they are and how intimate this is; it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before - not that he has much to compare this to.

Louis can still feel the ghost of Nick’s touch long after he snatches his hand away to more comfortably situate himself. With every thrust in and out Louis relaxes more, the hormones obviously doing their bit to make this as enjoyable as every fibre of his being told him it _would_ be.

He grips Nick’s arms and digs his heels into Nick’s lower back, desperate for purchase on the perfect porcelain skin. Nick fucks into him methodically and carefully but each turn feels like an explosion and Louis wonders why he couldn't have found this two or three or four years ago?

Nick’s thrusts begin to sync up with the rhythm that Louis had adopted in his head. Nick pushes in and upwards a little, an entirely different angle that has Louis crying out as he hits the spot. Louis can hardly keep his eyes focussed and open as Nick keeps going, the muscle of his biceps fluttering and firming under Louis’ fingers. His knuckles whiten with the strength that he grips the sheet under their bodies.

“Sorry, just- ah, Lou, you’re so…”

Nick doesn’t finish that thought, and Louis doesn’t seek out a response. He knows Nick’s coming because of the static stutter of his hips against him, the fluid movement replaced with something more stable. He forces his eyes open just as the wave is riding out, just in time to see Nick’s own eyes screwed tightly shut and his lips slightly parted; a pink flush on his features and an unusually high whine coming from low in his throat.

Louis can't deny that his legs are aching, and he must admit he feels sheer _relief_ when Nick pulls out and he can roll his hips back down so his bum is flat on the mattress.

Nick rids himself of the condom while Louis isn't looking and in a second, his mouth is on Louis, the glint in his eye that he catches before Nick closes them says _thought I’d leave you out, did you?_

He comes embarrassingly quickly into Nick’s mouth, with just a few fast, skilled twirls of his tongue and a tiny bit of pressure. His hips buck up off the bed as he does, his lower half still tingling and worked over and sensitive.

“Fuck, sorry,” He exhales deeply, bringing his hands up to scrub down his face. He’s shaking; he feels rather light and floaty like a helium balloon right now.

“Wow,” Nick comes immediately up for a kiss, letting Louis taste himself. It’s bizarre how much Louis likes that. “That was… that was amazing. You’re- are you okay?”

Louis has no idea how he looks, but he imagines it’s pretty pale, pretty fucked out. “Yeah. Yeah, that was… perfect.”

++

It’s just before eight am when Louis wakes for a wee. It takes a lot of strength to get up out of bed; he’s warm and he’s comfy and his back is cushioned by Nick’s springy mattress. But he has to go to the loo so reluctantly he pulls the duvet back and slips out, careful not to disturb Nick.

He creeps across the bedroom towards the door, headed for the bathroom. There’s a dull ache in front of his eyes and everything is a bit blurry with neither his contacts nor his glasses, but he finds the loo and does his business without problem.

He carefully draws the curtains when he returns, hoping for several hours more sleep. With the room now bathed in warm yellow light he shuffles back into Nick’s bed.

“Mmmfhhh Lou,” Nick mumbles in his sleep as he throws an arm around Louis unconsciously and pulls their bodies together, wiggling his hips so his soft dick presses up against Louis’ bum.

The simple action makes Louis’ chest swell with affection for Nick, and he falls back to sleep with him breathing heavily into his hair, one foot sticking out the bottom of the duvet to regulate his temperature.

++

He doesn’t plug his phone in to charge until nearly four in the afternoon, but when he does it vibrates non-stop for almost a full minute with missed calls, voicemails and text messages from Harry.

“Oh dear,” He murmurs as it continues to light up in his hand. At final count there are 46 missed calls, 7 voicemails and 12 text/WhatsApp messages. “I think Harry has been trying to reach me.”

Nick comes and flops down next to him and peers at the screen, sharply inhaling at the sight. “Wow. Clingy boyfriend alert!”

Louis rolls his eyes and slaps Nick’s bare thigh weakly. “Shut up, I knew he was gonna go mad. I’m gonna be in trouble now, ‘cause of you an’ your bad influence.”

Nick laughs. “With Harry’s track record, this is simply a taste of his own medicine.”

Louis doesn’t respond as he goes to WhatsApp and tries to formulate a response. _‘I’m alive, phone went dead sorry love. Just got it on charge. I’ll be home soon, sorry again xxxx’_ is what he eventually settles on. He watches as the message is delivered and Harry’s icon changes to active almost immediately.

_‘I am going to kill you when you get in young man xxxxxxx’_

Louis laughs softly and Nick raises an eyebrow. “You two have a special friendship.”

“You don’t know the half of it!” Louis says with a snort.

++

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” Harry booms as he comes scuttling down the hallway towards Louis. He looks and sounds angry but he throws himself at Louis, clinging onto him tightly and the relief in his bones is palpable. Louis’ guilt multiplies as he grips onto his best friend. “I was worried _fucking_ sick!”

Zayn and Niall are standing in the doorway between the hall and kitchen, smirking at them with their arms folded. Harry eventually lets him go and tries to scowl at him but ends up smiling.

“I uh, I couldn’t find my key,” Louis stammers, trying to play it cool and calm and hoping his cheeks aren’t crimson. “So Nick leant me his sofa?”

“Did he really?” Zayn pipes up, looking entirely unconvinced as they all shuffle into the front room. Louis makes a beeline for the sofa, feeling delicate despite spending most of the day asleep next to Nick.

“Yes!” He replies almost too quickly.

“Okay,” Zayn nods, his eyes bugging slightly. “You just didn’t sound too sure. Wasn’t sure if you were askin’ us or tellin’ us.”

“Oh,” Louis feels positively sick. “I was telling. You. Yeah, well anyway, it doesn’t matter, ‘m home now. Did you miss me?”

Zayn snorts. “Niall did.”

Louis just smiles. “Harry, I’m sorry again.”

“I’ve never seen Harry so worked up in all my life!” Niall comments between peals of laughter. “He was pacing up and down here, he was outside in the streets lookin’ for yous, he was gonna go back into town at one point to search! Hardly slept, have you Hazza mate?”

Louis is struggling, though, to find _any_ of what Niall is telling him funny.

“He’s never done anythin’ like this before! It’s normally me! I didn’t know what to do; he could’ve been dead in a ditch or anything!” Harry retaliates.

“It was like you were our overworked and underappreciated mum who after twenty years of being married to our dad Liam just snapped and upped and left!” Niall quips, cracking himself up laughing.

“Oh shut up you two, will you?”

“Why am I the mum?” Louis asks, affronted.

“Because Liam’s the dad, that’s the rules.”

“Sorry, didn’t realise you had a Daddy Liam kink, Nialler!” Harry jokes.

“Can we all please shut up?” Liam cuts in again, holding his hands up to silence an encouraged Niall, but he’s trying not to grin and Louis’ glad to see him happier now. “Louis’ back now, that’s all that matters! Now we can all stop crying and stressing!”

“No one’s crying but you,” Niall remarks, earning him a smack on the thigh from Zayn.

They calm down eventually and Louis puts his phone back on charge, changes out of yesterday’s clothes and goes back to the living room, the smell of Zayn’s balti simmering away in the kitchen making his tummy rumble.

“Hopefully now you and Nick might get on a bit better,” Harry muses, picking up his drink.

 _You don’t know the half of it,_ Louis finds himself thinking for the second time today.

++

It’s a long week and by Friday afternoon, Louis’ had more than enough and is ready to sleep for a thousand hours. What he doesn’t expect is to stagger wearily off the bus and into his living room to find Nick sitting on the sofa hugging his knees. Louis’ stomach lurches as Nick looks up, his faraway gaze solidifying into something more tangible.

“Harry’s key,” Nick explains before Louis even asks. “I’m a few hours early, but… wanted to see you.”

Louis blushes, feeling some of his aggravation slip away. “They could be home at any minute, Nick.”

Nick twists his mouth into a smile. “I know. Fun isn’t it, living life on the edge.”

Louis snorts and Nick gets up off the sofa, pushing closed the living room door with one finger as he scoops Louis up into his arms. The kisses are sweet and well overdue; Louis can’t even bring himself to be worried. They don’t, however, push their luck too far, heading up to the – only slightly – less risky confines of Louis’ bedroom.

They’re barely through the door and Nick is already on him. His fingers splay into Louis’ hair and down to the borders of his t-shirt, tugging at the arms and the hem.

“Nick, wait,” He stops Nick again, feeling anticipation and unfortunately still a dash of trepidation building behind his chest wall.

Nick stops immediately, that drawn down concerned look on his face again that Louis has seen a fair few times now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, just...” Louis can’t quite bring himself to ask Nick to lay them down on the bed so he just sort of waves towards the bed aimlessly, hoping Nick will get it, which, of course, he does.

He guides Louis towards his bed and they tumble down together, Nick kissing him again. He sinks into his mattress, propped up on all five of his pillows with Nick between his legs.

“Don’t wanna leave you later,” Nick remarks.

“Then don’t,” Louis murmurs, as if it was _that_ easy. Nick doesn't even respond, which says all it needs to. He tucks the crook of his finger under Nick’s chin and draws his attention back up. “I should just shut up, yeah?”

Nick laughs softly. “No love. In fact, y’know what? We’ve got time now, right? Let’s not worry about later.”

That sounds like something film characters would say to each other, not something someone would say to little old him; Louis feels like he should be pinching himself.

“Yeah, yeah… let’s, now.”

Nick smiles again and then shuffles back down the bed. Louis lets his hand fall to his side and he, again, subconsciously draws his belly down towards his spine as Nick rolls up his t-shirt to expose his belly.

Nick peppers it with kisses, taking time every few kisses or so to look up Louis and say something, inane things that are wholly unimportant, just little stories, anecdotes, jokes that make Louis’ tummy crease with laughter. Nick won’t allow him to put a self-conscious hand over his belly, though. He even turns his cheek and rests it upon Louis’ belly, sighing loudly with content.

“You’re embarrassing me!” Louis insists as Nick laughs but rolls onto his back and into the space next to Louis, his head down by Louis’ shins. They lay there for a while in silence, holding hands. Louis’ listens to the gentle snuffle of Nick’s breathing, he counts the beats of time that pass between each breath. The technique calms him.

He shifts and Nick squeezes his hand minutely tighter, like he’s checking in. Louis squeezes back in response and rolls onto his front, holding himself up on an elbow and reaching out to touch Nick with his other hand. He pushes his fingers under Nick’s thigh and rests his head there.

Nick’s cock is right in Louis’ eye line, and it’s not difficult to miss. He peers up past it to Nick’s tummy, chest, shoulder blades and then his face. He’s pouting, probably unintentionally, as he watches Louis closely.

“You all right, babe?” Nick whispers, and it’s the first time they’ve used babe. It makes Louis’ heart lurch, makes him fall a bit deeper. He hums softly, not lifting his head.

“Can I… for you?” He doesn’t – can’t – put the last bit into words, so he runs his hand slowly and carefully over the bump of the waistband and down to where he can feel Nick at half-mast against his hip to the left.

“Are you sure?” Nick asks, stopping Louis with firm hand on his shoulder. Nick stares him down, but Louis just nods. He wets his lips quickly and looks back down at the line of Nick’s cock through his joggers.

“Want to,” Louis says, hoping he sounds convincing.

Nick shuffles up and Louis moves off the bed. Nick lifts his bum off the bed and his joggers and pants are down in one swift movement. Louis settles back on the bed, half hanging off the edge. He takes hold of Nick, taking in the velvet softness of the skin and the heavy feeling against the backs of his fingers. The simple motion prompts a vivid but brief memory of the feeling of Nick pushing past his walls, rock hard slickness meeting red hot softness.

It may have been a significant amount of time since he last did this, but when he _did_ used to do this, he was always quite good at it, if he does say so himself. Well, the feedback was always positive. So, he decides to play to his strengths instead of fretting about whether or not he can take down as much as Nick did for him. He’s remarkably impressed that he’s able to form such lucid thoughts in view of what he’s just about to do.

He closes his mouth over Nick’s cock head, his lips tight around the perimeter of the head and his tongue free to curve over the head and around. Within a moment or two his nerves have fizzled out and the reaction he’s getting certainly seems to be a good one.

Nick blurts pre-come against Louis’ tongue and the taste is familiar but unique, as strange as that sounds. He’s completely gone for Nick; anything could happen right now and Louis would be too sated to realise. He regulates his breathing through his nose as he slips down the shaft, taking as much as he can without suffocating himself.

Nick murmurs pointless apologies as he bucks his hips up off the bed uncontrollably, and Louis keeps himself at about the half-way point, working to the best of his abilities instead of trying too hard and cocking it up, pun intended.

Nick’s warning that his conclusion is imminent is by way of slapping Louis on the shoulder and making a grunting noise. It gives Louis a moment or two, nothing more, to make his decision, and in the end he pops off the top as Nick’s knees begin to draw up, and with three tugs Nick comes onto his tummy and Louis’ hand, a droplet catching the very edge of his thumb.

Nick lets his head fall back, his softening cock still out. Louis stays rooted to the spot but manages to tear his eyes away from the pool of come on Nick’s pale skin, unsure of what to do with the slowly drying, sticky mess on his hand.

“You’re quite the little expert at that, aren’t ya?” Nick manages to say eventually, and Louis has to laugh.

“Thanks, I think.” He murmurs, finally deciding just to wipe it on Nick’s belly; it’s covered enough what’s one more bit? “I, uh, it’s been a while. Everything’s been a while, I’m sorry.”

“Oi,” Nick warns, finally heaving himself up onto his elbows. “Nothin’ to be sorry for. You’re great. Really great.”

He blushes, not quite sure how to handle having his cock sucking skills complimented so intensely. Keen to change the subject, but also realising that despite this little love-in they’re not able to just lounge about in the buff all evening, he pushes up off the bed.

“You’d better sneak to the bathroom before one of ‘em gets home,” He says. “And try not to drip on the carpet.”

Nick flips him off as he passes, cupping his other hand under the thickening liquid on his belly as he dashes past Louis to the bathroom.

++

Nick is ever so nonchalantly sitting on the sofa while Louis is finishing up in the shower when Liam and Zayn arrive home within five minutes of each other. Louis isn’t privy to what, if any, questions they have for Nick, and so he tries not to let himself worry about it.

Harry gets home just before six, but it’ll be gone eleven before Niall comes home as he’s working at the pub. They all settle in with beers and Liam flicks on the telly. Harry plonks himself down next to Nick and motions for Louis to join them.

“Cosy,” Nick remarks with a smirk that Louis has to tell his brain to ignore as he sits down gingerly next to Nick in the middle. It’s not just the obvious turn of events; the fact that Louis knows about Nick’s interview and Harry doesn’t resonates in him too.

“Just the five of us!” Harry sings happily, throwing his arms around their shoulders. “We can make it if we try, just the five of us. You and I! And you, and you, and you.”

“You fucking idiot,” Zayn mutters under his breath with a lopsided grin.

As loathe as Louis is to admit it, having a laugh with the lads is much more therapeutic for his tired, weary soul than sitting alone all night scrolling his phone and fighting off sleep.

Now that he and Nick can be ‘sort of mates’ in front of the boys, they don’t have to be as cautious around each other. So Nick takes it upon himself to sit a bit closer, crack a few more jokes, share a few more smiles. It’s nice. Of course, Niall once he arrives _does_ feel the need to make a few risqué comments, which coincidentally aren’t far from the truth, that they have to laugh off but it’s nice. It’s sort of like a prelude to how it’s going to be once they go public, as it were, Louis thinks.

Because they _will_ go public. Louis’ let himself believe that since their night together. His confidence is growing day by day and Nick hasn’t let him down so far. His mum’s voice rings in his ears telling him that it’s only a big deal to _him_ , and he’s slowly starting to accept that.

Niall comes back with a bottle of Ciroc, claiming it to be ‘on his tab’ – Louis doesn’t think tabs quite extend to taking full bottles of spirits home with you after your shift, but he’s not in a position to argue.

Harry returns with all of the drinks from their fridge and cupboards in his arms, even the milk.

“White Russian, hey?” Nick remarks quietly to Louis as he lifts the milk up to examine it closely. He blushes as he looks up, putting down the milk without looking. Even he’s not oblivious enough to miss the symbolic nature of the white stuff.

Louis goes, in the end, not for a White Russian but his old faithful: vodka and Fanta Fruit Twist. Nick is smirking at him across the room as he methodically glugs half vodka half Fanta into his pint glass. A burst of confidence from somewhere sees Louis sitting back down next to Nick, the warmth of his leg pressed up close against his own. There probably are more comfortable places he could sit that are less crowded, but he’s not interested in them.

It’s almost deliriously exciting; a bit like a continuation of the night of Zayn’s birthday, the secret touches and the concealed attention that had led to one of the - if not _the_ \- best nights of Louis’ life.

“Ey up, got somethin’ you wanna tell us, Tommo?” Niall’s voice shouting his name pulls Louis out of Nick’s orbit and back to reality.

“What?” He laughs weakly, though his systems are already beginning to short circuit.

“Yous two! Ya practically _sitting_ in his lap!” Niall points out, drawing everyone’s attention onto them.

Louis doesn’t want their attention. It all starts to crumble from there, rapidly.

“Come t’think of it, yeah, since yous two’s little sleepover the other week you’re suddenly best mates!” Niall continues, clearly very unaware of what he’s doing to Louis.

“What’s that?” Liam joins in curiously; Harry just looks bewildered.

“Yeah, what’s going on with you two?” Zayn joins in too, though he isn’t smiling. Louis can feel his throat start to close up next.

Harry looks at them both in confusion, and then back at Niall and then Zayn, his attention flitting between the five of them. “What you lot on about?”

“Yeah, shut up?” Louis murmurs weakly, though no one hears him.

“You two suddenly very close, whispering in the corner and havin’ fucking sleepovers!”

“It’s just a bit of fun, int’it!” Nick says, so easily and so freely, directing his focus to Niall. Louis immediately feels sick to his stomach. “Just thought he could do with a bit of lightenin’ up, s’all.”

“Yeah, all right!” Zayn scoffs disbelievingly.

“Oh c’mon Zayn!” Nick exclaims with a stupid, patronising grin on his face. “The poor lad looks like he might snap sometimes he’s so wound up! The odd smile here, a touch there; doesn’t do no harm does it?”

Nick throws his arm around Louis, gives his shoulders a squeeze and then get up, smacking his thigh in what is supposed to be a playful manner. He goes to refill his drink and the rest of the lads laugh, like Nick’s story corroborates the way they all perceive Louis. He sits there, trembling in his skin, completely numb. Louis hadn’t been expecting Nick to lay down and admit everything, obviously, but he hadn’t been expecting this either.

His cheeks blush crimson and suddenly all he can focus on is the orangey pink colour of his drink that feels warm in his hand. His blood runs contrastingly cold and he’s rooted to the spot, listening to all his mates laughing at his expense, _again_ \- listening to Nick laughing at him, belittling him, _again._

He should’ve bloody well _known_ that he was being too bold, too confident. He should’ve known that inevitably someone was going to get hurt and that person would be him.

He might’ve known that Nick would wait until _after_ they’d slept together, after Louis had given everything to Nick and let him into every conceivable facet of his life. After he’d fallen… well. The memories make him feel itchy, angry at himself for ever trusting anyone. That anger fuels him out of his seat, to the loo.

He doesn’t know if anyone noticed him leave; no one says anything if they did. No one follows him. No one.

He sits on the downturned loo seat until his anger and embarrassment dissipate. He doesn’t want to drink anymore; he doesn’t want to be merrily buzzed on Fanta vodka anymore. The sound of them all in his home, having a good time and laughing makes his skin itch. It’s four out five of their homes too, but Louis’ got no time for semantics when he feels like this.

He flushes the loo as a matter of course and gets up with renewed vigour and confidence. Leaving his drink balanced on the edge of the bath, he returns to the living room and announces to the room that he’s calling it a night. The boys all call him a loser, pathetic, a lightweight. He smiles against their well-meaning insults and keeps his eyes decidedly _off_ Nick as he accepts all they throw at him.

He pats Harry’s shoulder accordingly and then makes for the door. The boys continue to make a ruckus well into the night, and Louis doesn’t sleep. He lays there in a stupor, the occasional bang or crash or shout piercing through his consciousness until a knock at his door brings him back into focus and he realises the house has fallen silent.

Nick invites himself in before Louis can even call out. Louis bolts up in bed, pulling himself to sitting, and Nick takes that as an invitation to perch on the end of the bed too.

“Harry’s passed out,” He says with a wry smile. “Told ‘em I was headed home, though I don’t think they’d notice if I ran through the kitchen naked, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Louis comments blankly.

“Lou, are you…” Nick trails off, his wilted smile turning into a concerned, shadowy frown.

“Am I what?” Louis cuts in sharply. “Am I okay? Have I had fun? Have I _‘lightened up’_ sufficiently for you?”

Nick’s face falls in a heartbeat once the recognition registers in his eyes. Eyes that Louis had come to adore so much. “Louis, I-”

“No, fuck off. Don’t start with your _‘Louis, I’m sorry’_ crap, okay?” He says, mimicking Nick’s ridiculous accent. “That was… what the fuck, Nick?”

“I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t exactly be like, actually you know what lads? Yeah, actually we _are_ sleepin’ together as it happens.”

 _That_ feels like a slap in the face. “That’s all it is to you, is it?”

Nick’s face twists into something akin to pain. “No, that was- of course it’s not, Lou. That was a shit wording choice.”

Louis just pulls a face, and Nick continues to dig his hole.

“I panicked, I thought you’d… I thought you’d want me to throw them off the scent.”

“Oh! So I’m supposed to be grateful, am I? Humiliated by my so-called friends, by my so-called-” He cuts himself off abruptly.

“No, I didn’t _say_ that!” Nick replies desperately. “I’m- look, I messed up tonight. I’m sorry.”

Louis bats away Nick’s approaching hand. Nick is still intent on carrying on though, apparently.

“I want them to know. I want everyone to know! We all fuck up sometimes, Lou, I- I didn’t mean to. You’re… you’re my boy, y’know. We’re good. You’re the only one that calls me Nick.”

The fact that Nick brings that up makes Louis’ heart hurt. He scoffs weakly. “Why does that matter now? None of that matters now, _Grimmy._ ”

He does it to be facetious, because all he has left in him now is pettiness and anger.

“C’mon Lou, it’s-”

“Nah,” He cuts Nick off, moving his knee so Nick’s hand falls short. “Forget it; this is too much for me. I’m not… I’m not doin’ this anymore. I don’t want to.”

Nick stands up, though it’s more of a drunken stumble. He’s glaring back at Louis with his bloodshot eyes as wide as saucepans. Louis won’t look, won’t acknowledge that Nick actually does look convincingly devastated. It makes him too uncomfortable.

“Lou, you don’t mean that.”

He nods powerfully, though he’s not as cocksure as he’s making out to be, not one tiny bit. “I do mean it. Thanks, but… I can’t. I won’t. _Please_ leave.”

“You… you’re not seriously doin’ this, are ya?” Anger replaces Nick’s devastation, which is probably not undeserved on Louis’ part. “One little thing and that’s it, chance gone?”

“Yeah, well that’s me Nick; I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m saying, where I’m going. I do stupid things and make the wrong choices - I _fuck up_ , as you so eloquently put it. If you don’t like it then fine but it’s my choice, always my choice and I choose this. And at least it’s one less secret I have to keep from Harry!”

Nick makes that same screwed up, disbelieving face again. “Stop bringing him into it!”

“No, I won’t!” Louis argues. “Don’t tell me what to do! Just… just go, Nick. Please. Go home, go to… wherever. Just please forget this,” He gestures between them, “ever happened.”

“That’s what you want, is it?” Nick asks, the words hanging above their heads in bold print.

Louis’ anger at himself is barrelling along; he doesn’t know what he wants but he could wager that Nick leaving is _not_ what his heart wants, but his head – his stupid, alcohol clouded, messed up head – is winning the slanging match.

“Yeah,” He says, closing his eyes and turning his head. Hot tears burn behind his eyelids, and when he opens them again Nick, unsurprisingly, is gone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I poured my heart into this work, I’m dead proud of it; I hope you like it. The next part, the last part, will follow shortly, it’s all written.*


	6. Chapter 6

Louis doesn't sleep much that night. He’s not sure what time it was when Nick left but he sees five am and his head hasn't touched the pillow yet. His eyes are stinging when seven o'clock rolls round and he hears Liam’s alarm going off.

A moment later there is movement in the hallway and Louis creeps out, bumping into Liam on the landing.

“All right, mate?” Liam greets him quietly, a tired smile on his face.

“What ya doin’, Payno? It’s seven am.”

“Going for a run.”

_ Oh God,  _ Louis thinks. He didn't think Liam was still keeping this up. About a week after new year, Liam had resolved to get back into running. Louis hadn’t bothered to show much interest as he thought it was just a fad.

“You’re still doing that?”

“Yeah, well, I missed a few sessions in the week, and well, y’know,” He pats his flat stomach. “Been drinking a fair bit lately.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re fine as you are, Payno, you don’t need to do this.”

“I want to,” Liam replies resolutely.

Louis admires his stubbornness, sees a lot of that in himself. “You all right, mate? Seriously. I feel I’ve kinda neglected you these past few weeks.”

“I’m fine, Lou,” Liam says, moving towards the stairs. Louis follows him down, into the kitchen where Liam starts to fill an old Evian bottle with tap water. “Been three weeks now. I’m fine.”

Louis’ not sure knowing the exact amount of time since you had your heart trampled on counts as being ‘fine’, but he doesn't bring it up.

“Okay,” He says instead, nodding pensively. “Well, you know you can talk to me whenever.”

“Yeah,” Liam smirks. “Mr Single and Loving it, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees with a small smile. Liam probably isn’t wrong, not anymore.

++

Liam heads out in his shorts, water bottle in hand. Louis stays sitting in the kitchen, contemplating matches to keep his eyes open with. Deep in his chest is a tight knot of doubt, regret and panic, to name just a few. He needs to talk to someone.

Ordinarily he’d go to Harry but for obvious reasons his best friend is off limits. The other obvious choice would be Nick, but the fact that his problem _ is _ Nick throws a spanner in the works there. He coils his tummy up into knots agonising over whether he could go to his mum on this, but in the end it’s Perrie he turns to for advice, and he gets a whack around the ear in the middle of Costa for his troubles.

“What if he isn't?” He protests Perrie’s question of what if Nick is The One and he’s just messed it up.

“What if he is?” Perrie rebuttals creatively.

Louis’ shoulders sag as the sickening realisation hits him again. 

“I… I thought he was. Is. But Pez, my track record isn't great. I might be… what if a few weeks, months down the line it all goes tits up? What if everything I thought I felt was wrong?”

“Yeah, but it might  _ not, _ Lou! You can’t give up before you’ve even tried, just because of a ‘what if’. I’ve seen your face when y’talk about him, Lou.”

“I don’t...” He trails off miserably. He’s beginning to lose sight of why he is fighting this. He scrubs a hand over his weary face and looks away; the intensity too much. 

It’s Saturday afternoon so Costa is bustling with people; people with smiles plastered on their beverage receiving faces, not a collective care in the world.

“You can’t live your life avoiding every little thing because you’re worried of how it’ll turn out. You’re the strongest person I know, Lou, I am in  _ awe _ of you, absolute awe. You’ve proved you can handle what shit life throws at yous. What’s stopping you now?”

“Shut up,” He mumbles with a self-conscious smile that he tries to hide.

“And, if - and it’s a big _ if _ \- if it doesn’t work out, a hurting heart will heal. You’ll get better, you always will. But you’ll never know how  _ good _ it could be if you don't give it a go.”

Louis slumps back into his seat with a dejected sigh. His palms are clammy and lips dry to the point of peeling as he realises the one putting up the blocks, the one littering their path with debris, is him.

“What if Nick doesn't want me back?” He murmurs, almost inaudibly. His throat feels tight.

Perrie gets up and moves round the table to slide in next to him. She loops one arm behind his back and brings the other one around his waist. She smells like coconut shampoo and creamy sweet perfume.

“Babe, I think you need to talk to Nick.”

++

Of course Perrie is right, Louis knows that. He was sort of hoping that she’d side with him and they’d spend all afternoon driving Nick’s reputation into the ground, but really he wasn’t hoping that at all.

Louis umms and ahhs over what to say to Nick; wishes he could call Perrie back and have her dictate something for him to send. He tries several different attempts: newfound humour, seriousness, casual, grovelling. But, in the end he hits the call button and waits the agonising wait for the call to connect. 

Each shrill ring in his ear is like a gunshot, which will be the fatal blow? Louis’ just about accepted that Nick isn't going to answer when the buzzing stops and is replaced with Nick’s voice.

“Hi love,” Nick rasps.  _ Love. _ That’s a good sign, surely?

Louis stumbles over his words; misfiring the first hello. With a feeble cough he tries again. “Hey.”

“All right?”

“Yeah,” Louis stammers. “What’re you doing? 

”I’m at work. Had loads to get done, so…”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t- I’ll let you go.”

“It’s okay,” Nick cuts in. “I was gonna get going in ten mins or so anyway. Wanna walk me home? Make sure I get home safe?”

Louis rolls his eyes at Nick’s use of ‘mins’ but then he’s immediately smiling. He’s walking a dangerous line, he knows. This could all go wrong still. 

“Yeah, I- yeah, can you gimme twenty minutes?”

“Sure,” Nick agrees, and Louis hears a filing cabinet clunk closed and the power down jingle of the computer. “Wait for me out the front? See you soon.”

++

Louis is across town and approaching the looming HMV building in nine minutes flat. He could just vibrate right out of his skin with how nervous he is. He perches on the edge of a bench just across from HMV, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and trying to shield his face from the sharp January wind.

Some time later, he hears a scuff and he knows. He peers up as Nick’s shadow crosses over him. He stands there all pigeon toes and skinny legs, looking freezing cold in his useless but fashionable black coat.

“Hey,” Nick’s voice sounds so clear in his ears Louis could weep. Never mind it’s not even been twenty four hours. “Ready? It’s fucking freezing.”

They walk towards the bus station, arms nudging and steps falling into sync as they go. They don’t talk during the three or four minute walk. When they get to the bus station, Nick busies himself rolling a cigarette and they share that in silence too, but Nick does reach over and run the crook of his index finger over Louis’ thigh. Louis risks a glance at him and Nick gives a small reassuring smile back.

The bus is packed so they stand to begin with. It slowly empties as it chugs out of town and through the residential areas, and they finally get a seat just two stops before they have to get off.

Nick’s flat is icy cold when they get in. Louis shivers violently with a combination of nerves and chill and Nick snorts softly when he returns with teas. “Look at you,” He remarks with a kind smile. “I wanna cuddle, but I dunno if that’s allowed?”

Louis accepts his tea, focuses hard on blowing across the glossy surface and takes a cautious sip. It’s so hot it practically kills all his taste buds, but he’s too wired to notice.

“You are allowed,” he says as Nick sits down next to him. He keeps his numb hands wrapped tight around the mug, the rim pressed against his chin. 

“Yeah?” Nick asks, sounding understandably a bit dubious. 

Louis nods and leans over to place his tea down. “Nick, I need to say sorry.” 

Nick nods in agreement. With a deep breath, Louis continues. 

“I… I’m not the easiest person to put up with. What I do and what I say are quite often two different things, and then people -  _ you _ \- end up getting caught in the middle. I’ve got the common sense of a chair leg and I’m about as emotionally stable as a snowflake. I… I struggle letting things go and I worry about things that already fixed themselves a long time ago. I don't want you under any illusions that I’m some sort of… super human, or ’owt ‘cause I’m not. But I really,  _ really _ like you and… what I said yesterday, I didn’t mean it.

“Yesterday I was shite. I know I overreacted, there wasn’t much else you could’ve said. And it’s my fault we’re keeping up this ridiculous act in the first place, me and my stupid anxiety.”

“Lou, it’s not stupid.” Nick says with some insistence.

Louis powers through, on a roll now. “I was talkin’ to one of my friends and she… she made a good point.”

“Which was…?”

“That if I don't try I’ll never know. And that  _ if _ I do get hurt, it’ll always heal in time.”

Nick’s wide, soft smile stretches across his entire face. “That’s true. Your friend is very wise.”

Louis laughs softly. Perrie will be happy to hear that.

“Do you... are- uh, fuck.” Louis trails off, laughing as Nick’s features break into an intense, comically quizzical stare. “Don’t stare at me, I’m tryna do something!”

“Sorry!” Nick eventually dissolves his glare, laughing loudly and wide then eventually settling down again. “Please continue, I’ll be serious.”

Louis rolls his eyes and then lowers his gaze to his leg as he prepares what he’s going to say. He picks at the seam on the edge of the sofa cushion.

“If you’re not completely put off by all that… embarrassing stuff I just told you, I’d very much like to be your- be with you properly. Like, your boyfriend?”

The words don’t feel like they've come from him; this Louis that is making bold steps and fighting for what he wants is so far away from the Louis that sat by and let the rest of the world move on without him.

His cheeks flush crimson and he slaps both palms up to cover his face the second the words are out. Nick’s hands reach up not one second later, uncovering Louis’ face.

“Yes, Louis. I would also ‘very much’ like to be your boyfriend. Properly.”

Relief washes over Louis like a flood. “Really?” He asks, hot liquid springing up behind his eyes as Nick pulls him closer, saying yes a million more time and calling him a daft sod.

They lie entangled in each other on the sofa together for almost an hour afterwards. Later on, Nick cooks for him; joking that this special treatment is only because of the day’s events and that he shouldn’t get used to it. After they eat they put on hoodies and scarves and beanie hats and trudge into town to this new pudding parlour. Nick marvels the whole way there that there are places in Britain now dedicated solely to dessert, and they spend a good half hour debating the best one.

Much later that night when Nick puts him in a taxi and kisses him goodbye, physically it doesn’t feel  any different to before but his whole life has shifted since the last time he was in the back of a taxi heading away from Nick’s flat.

Sunday morning is bright white and crisp outside the window, and Louis feels like someone has finally removed the lead weight from his chest. He’s thought on and off all morning about how and when to tell the lads; he’s starting with Harry, of course. He decides to put it off for at least another day, as Harry’s just booked his new tattoo for next week and has made sure that’s the only thing they’re going to hear about.

As he listens to Harry blabbering on, nodding and smiling in all the right places, an idea pops into his head. He quickly checks his bank online and then looks up at Harry with a smile.

“Haz, gimme the number for the place?”

++

Louis gets the definite sense that he’s inconvenienced the shop receptionist with his request but with some wiggling about and chopping and changing he manages to get himself a slot with an artist alongside Harry’s appointment on Saturday.

++

The opportune moment to tell Harry about him and Nick actually comes sooner than expected, on Wednesday after a particularly shit day at school. The rain has not stopped pouring all day and his overwhelming desire to just go to Nick and climb into his arms and talk about him without secret far outweighs anything else. 

_ ‘Need a Haz cuddle. Waiting for you in your room, come see me when you get home pls xxxx’ _

Louis pushes inside Harry’s bedroom; it’s the smallest of the five and the only room that never got a fresh paint job two years ago when the other bedrooms did. Harry’s bed is pushed right into the corner, the plain white duvet cover crumpled and it’s definitely never seen an iron but his bed is made and the pillows are fluffed, which is more than Louis can say for his own room.

Louis peers out the window at the sad scene; the light is quickly fading and the relentless rain falls steadily. Harry’s view is of the main road, the opposite side of the house to Louis’ room. He passes the time by counting the traffic light changes. Red light glows over the saturated concrete and reflects in the windows of parked cars as Louis spots Harry. He dashes across the road at the lights, head down battling against the rain.

Harry crashes about downstairs for a while, groaning loudly about the rain and Louis hears the tumble dryer come on. You can always tell when Liam is out; the tumble dryer comes on. When Liam is home they are banned from using the tumble dryer ‘frivolously’, as he puts it.

Harry finally thunders upstairs, bursting into his bedroom with a broad smile.

“Hey gorgeous,” Harry pants, out of breath. “Room for a not so little one?”

Louis pulls back the covers and Harry clambers in next to him, wriggling around like mad until he’s comfortable. Harry slots his foot between Louis’ ankles; the toes of his socks are wet.

“I’ve missed this,” Harry says with a contented sigh. “We haven’t cuddled in ages.”

Louis smiles, a dash of guilt sitting uncomfortably under his rib cage.

“What’s happened to make your day so crap then?” Harry continues.

“Just busy, y’know? I love the kids but sometimes…” He lets out a deep breath. “Sometimes I could string them up.”

Harry laughs. “I couldn’t do your job, that’s for sure. I can just about deal with a rogue rugrat scampering around the DVD section. Couldn’t handle a whole classroom of ‘em.”

“I couldn’t put up with some prick givin’ me abuse for not having the latest… I dunno, Take That album or summat.”

Harry snorts. “Is that really the best boyband you could think of?”

Louis smiles gently against Harry’s chest, sort of glad that they’re not looking at each other for this. He’s ready, but that doesn't mean he’s not nervous. 

“Haz, I uh, it’s not just that I’ve had a shitty day. I need to tell you something too.”

“Sounds serious,” Harry says with an uncomfortable chuckle that vibrates through Louis’ cheek.

“It is,” Louis replies solemnly. Harry shifts, leaning back so he can see Louis.

“It’s not… it’s not your mum again is it?” He asks, and Louis realises how pale Harry has gone.

The mere thought of his mum being poorly again, mixed with the grief etched into Harry’s expression makes tears spring to Louis’ eyes immediately. Harry’s ashen face crumples, obviously taking Louis’ tears as confirmation of bad news. He scrambles to a sitting position.

“Oh no, please-“

“No it’s, it’s not that, Harry.” Louis rushes to pull himself to sitting too. “Mum’s fine.”

“Oh thank God!” Harry’s relief is palpable; it rushes out of him like a burst water main. “God, I don’t- I couldn’t bear it if…”

Louis is grateful that he peters out because he couldn’t bear to think of that alternative reality either. He shudders at the thought and Harry’s hand is automatically there in his, comforting.

“What is it then?” Harry asks softly.

“Well,” Louis begins again, shakily. “Y’know after Christmas, the day I came back from Donny? What you said about, about Nick?”

Harry’s face contorts in confusion. He was clearly not expecting that. “Nick? What about him?”

“You uh,” Louis falters, but swallows and presses ahead. “You said that you thought he’d met someone.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry’s eyes refocus with recognition. “Why, has he told you somethin’? No offence but I’ll kill him if he has, we‘re supposed to be best mates!”

“Uh, no Harry. Well, sorta… I dunno.”

“Lou, you’re bein’ weird again.” Harry says slowly, eyeing him closely. “What do you know?”

“I… it’s- it’s me?”

Harry frowns. “What’s you?”

“That Nick’s seeing?” Louis says, though he sounds so pathetically unsure it’s laughable really. “I mean to say, me and Nick are sorta seeing each other. Well, not sort of. We are. Together.”

Harry’s confused eyebrow twitch stops Louis from saying anything else. Harry’s face changes by the second but his overriding emotion seems to be one of confusion, and to be honest Louis doesn’t really blame him. It probably does seem weird, given that to an outsider he and Nick are casual acquaintances at best; people who don’t really have any need to get along, people that just share a mutual friend.

Harry opens his mouth a few times, making several failed attempts before his face twists into something indescribable and he laughs awkwardly. “Are- are you sure?”

Louis has to laugh too, a soft snort from his nose. “Yes, love.”

“I mean- I didn’t mean that. I just… I’m really surprised. Are you having me on?”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s not a joke, Haz.”

“How long?”

“Officially… four days. With a little blip in the middle.”

“And unofficially?” Harry asks.

Louis shrugs, unsure of which defining moment to choose; their first kiss back in November, the first time he went to Nick’s flat, maybe the Manchester trip? “Two or three months?”

Harry’s eyes widen with obvious surprise. He lets his breath out slowly, in increments. “Two or three  _ months _ ?” He echoes. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair. “And neither of you said  _ anything  _ at all? In fact, Nick flat out  _ denied _ it to the lads the other night!”

“I know, I… I asked him to.” Louis says, curtailing the truth a little bit. “I wasn’t ready, but I am now. Starting with you, obviously.”

“I’m...” Harry trails off, letting out another big lungful of air again. “I’m really bloody surprised, to be honest. You and- Nick and you, fucking hell. I really didn’t see this coming, at all.”

“Are you angry at me?” Louis asks, unable to read his best friends reaction as well as he’d hoped. “I’m really sorry, Haz.”

For a brief second the idea of Harry telling him that he can’t support them crosses Louis’ mind and instantly fills him with nauseating dread. Then Harry laughs, his grin broad and genuine and Louis could cry with relief. 

“Angry? What, no! Why would I be angry? It’s a little weird, will take some getting used to but I’m not mad. My two best mates in love? It’s amazing.”

Louis’ heart yelps inside his chest at the mention of the L word. “Mind, give it time, eh?”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How could he not love you, Lou, you’re like, the best person in the world. Mark my words, he’ll be in love with you by… the end of February,  _ guaranteed _ . If he’s not already in love with you, that is.”

Louis blushes. There will certainly never be another human quite like Harry Styles in his life, that’s for sure. They lie back down in Harry’s bed, going over all of the ins and outs of the past few months, not literally of course. 

Harry remarks that he’ll likely feel a bit weird the first time he sees them kiss, but Louis assures him that there will be no PDA - he’d heard that phrase on Love Island a while back and is pleased to have come across the first opportunity to use it. Harry just giggles at him. 

He asks Louis if he can send Nick a text, and after a bit of deliberating Louis says it’s fine. He watches Harry like a hawk as he sends Nick a picture of the two of them cuddling in bed, captioned  _ ‘.......... jealous? x’ _

Nick’s response a moment or two later comes as the eyes wide open face emoji, and then  _ ‘cat’s out the bag then.’ _

++

On Saturday, Louis gets ‘Far Away’ tattooed on the inside of his arm; his first tattoo for more than three years, since the five tally he got on the inside of his wrist for mum and the girls.

“S’nice,” Harry remarks, smiling brightly as he sits for his own ink, a bravely big, frankly slightly garish tiger on his thigh. “You’ll never go too far away though, will you? Even though you’re in a Serious Relationship now. I’d miss you too much.”

Louis grins and breaks away from Harry’s attention, feeling suddenly quite warm. “I think the ink is sending you funny, Haz.”

Louis can’t  _ not _ think about the future though; now that he and Nick are officially together. In less than a week, he’s gained a boyfriend, stepped out publicly with said boyfriend, sat in his front room with his four best friends and had that boyfriends’ arm around him; fielded a million questions and received countless slaps on the back of congratulations. 

Not one of them had reacted badly; not that he realistically thought they ever would. His mum had been pleased to hear that they’d worked things out, and Lottie hollered in the background about winning the bet, but Louis knows that they never even betted. All being well, things between him and Nick will just keep getting better. Plus, Nick should be hearing back from the job any day now. Good news or not, it’s obvious that Nick’s time at HMV is coming to a natural conclusion, and, realistically he and the lads can’t all live together forever-

“Earth to Louis?” Harry interrupts his train of thought. Louis looks up blankly. “I said, wanna get Wagamama’s after this?”

Louis smiles. Sure, things may possibly change in another few months, but for now, he’ll go and get reasonably priced Asian food with one fifth of his house mates.

 

 


	7. An unofficial epilogue

Over the course of the next few months, as expected, things begin to slowly shift for all of them. Louis and Nick meet the entirety of each other’s families; Nick takes all of the Tomlinson sisters well in his stride and Louis is welcomed warmly into the arms of Nick’s mum, in a house where Nick is known solely as ‘our kid’ and _everyone_ calls mum by her first name, Eileen.

In the midst of all of that is Harry’s birthday. Louis doesn’t mind keeping to tradition for Harry, and goes all out for his best friend; trying to pole dance on a lamp post and staggering down the street kebab in hand singing Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing are two memories that stick out, looking back.

Nick gets the news that he’s got the job not long after that, in mid-February. When he tells Harry the news Louis decides to be far, far away. When Harry arrives home that day he bursts into the room rather forlornly with a face on.

_“So Nick’s got a new job,”_ Harry says. _“But I suppose you already knew that?”_

He doesn’t look particularly angry, just unbelievably sad, and that’s infinitely worse. Louis just scrambles to his feet, throws himself at Harry and they hug it out until it’s all okay again.

They trundle into March, and unbeknownst to any of them, within a year their house will be empty. It starts with Niall announcing he’s got a new job in Liverpool, events coordinator, thank you very much. Louis gets spectacularly drunk at his going away bash and ends the night in tears on Liam’s shoulder.

Two weeks after that when Niall has officially moved an hour and ten minutes down the road to Liverpool, they stand in his empty room surveying the empty spaces where his personal possessions used to be, only his furniture remaining now.

“What shall we turn it into?” Harry asks.

“A games room!” Zayn suggests, which earns him a thump on the arm from Louis.

“We should just leave it how it is!”

“Jesus Christ, Lou, he’s not died!” Zayn objects. “We’re not keepin’ it as some sort of _shrine_ to him!”

That was early March; in August comes Liam’s bombshell. Him and Necklace Girl – they’ve met her a million times now and her name is Kara but Louis can’t let it go – are moving in together. Louis is appalled and Harry looks mildly horrified too, but Zayn grips Louis’ forearm firmly as a warning and Nick reminds him that everyone deserves a second chance, so he’s no choice but to congratulate his mate and enjoy a celebratory glass of Veuve Clicquot.

It all moves very quickly after that. With just Niall gone it was okay; his contribution to the rent was always the smallest anyway, but with Liam going too Zayn sits the remaining three official residents down at the living room table and says that he’s no choice but to find somewhere smaller and cheaper to live – alone.

After that follows a very stressful four and a half months including two flats, a job interview and his first big argument with Nick. It’s catastrophic, because it happens right in the thick of things, in the cramped kitchen of the flat he and Harry and temporarily renting. There’s shouting and there’s berating, petty insults and declarations of hate. The night ends in tears with a very awkward Harry unsure of what to do; so very obviously having heard everything from his room. Louis hears Harry and Nick talking afterwards in the hallway and his blood is boiling with rage at Harry’s betrayal, but then he comes in the room after, slinks in behind Louis in bed and holds him tightly.

By December it’s forgotten about. His birthday and Christmas and New Year all pass by as uneventfully as any other day. Things get better in 2018, as they have a habit of doing. Gina gets the job that Louis had interviewed for, and having to see her face every day as she lives out the dream he thought was his tough, but he gets over it. He doesn’t try again for a good while, happy to keep going the way he is. In June, after eight months in their flat Harry and Louis move out; the agreement that Louis would move in with Nick agreed upon over a bottle of rosé.

Both of their mums meet for the first time during the hectic weekend in July when Louis moves his stuff into Nick’s. It’s so unbelievably hot that weekend, the sweat was already pouring off him before he’d even moved a single box, but at half past eleven they’d sat down together with takeaway and it all felt worth it. They slept for a record fifteen hours after that.

A fresh set of kids join the class in September and little Edwin takes an immediate shine to Louis; he’s a nervous child, full of pent up anger as a result of the embarrassment and frustration of not being able to handle his surroundings or express himself the way he wants to. Learning difficulties and speech delay pepper his path even more, and caring for young Edwin is what gives Louis the boot up the bum that he needed to start looking for jobs working with Special Educational Needs children.

They see the end of 2018 out together in their flat with a quivering little Airedale terrier pup named Candy. They’re uncles too, sort of; Niall surprised them all with a picture sent to the group chat one quiet, unsuspecting October evening conveniently entitled _‘surprise!’_

They all have a million unanswered questions, why hadn’t Niall mentioned anything when he came back for his birthday in September? He hadn’t even mentioned he was seeing anyone, let alone the fact he was less than a month away from becoming a dad!

They meet the tiny little girl when she’s eight weeks old; a shock of dark hair, a tiny little pout and blue eyes. Her name is Saoirse, which having only seen it written down had perplexed Louis and Liam a great deal until Niall simplified it for them - _‘Ser-sha’._

2018 rolls benignly into 2019 with fireworks going off outside the window and empty beer bottles on the coffee table. The last eighteen months or so seem to have flown by; he himself doesn’t feel like he’s done much, not when you’ve got new babies and mortgages and promotions being thrown around for everyone else, but then Nick comes back into the room with messy hair, socks tucked into his joggers and the beginnings of the most adorable pot belly, and he realises he’s done _a lot._

He’s found the love of a man that – apart from Harry – is his very best friend, is funny, is low key, is so _easy_ to be around. They laugh together and they cry together, there’s no secrets and nothing is off limits, they argue and they hold each other, make love and do the big Tesco shop together. There’s never a time when Nick’s not on his mind.

The world of student-esque house sharing feels a million years ago now, but the memories are encapsulated in the framed 7x5 picture of the five of them above the telly; Zayn just in shot with his tongue hanging out, Harry and Niall both similarly open mouthed, and himself and Liam squashed up against each other in the top right corner.

“What’re you smiling at, Soppy?” Nick asks, laughing softly. His tone is soft and scratchy, the ‘flu’ that he’d been struck down with two nights before Christmas still hanging on.

Louis thinks Nick’s just milking it for all it’s worth, but he holds his arms out to drag Nick down into a cuddle because he doesn’t mind at all, he’ll indulge Nick _entirely._

 

 

 

 

_The end._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any errors, I check my work myself. I hope you enjoyed, I loved this work to be honest. I hope it makes somebody happy.
> 
> Please reblog the [fic post](http://yourpricelessadvice.tumblr.com/post/172308380789/yourpricelessadvice-we-were-the-better-kind) on Tumblr if you enjoyed!
> 
> Lots of love x


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